Money for Nothing
by joesoap
Summary: Darry is struggling. Money is tighter than ever and Soda and Pony are stretching his last nerve. It's been a hell of a year and next year just looks, well, harder. He's given an offer he can't refuse but will this end up make everything worse? JOL rewrite
1. work sucks

Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.

Note: Most of the first chapters are pretty much as they were in the previous story but plot has now changed - to something unlikely but more in the realms of possible.

Darry drew a hand over his forehead and felt a sheen of wetness across the back of his fingers. He reached for the bottle tucked in his shirt pocket and took several gulps of warm water. The roof tiles were scorching underneath his knees and it felt like the sun was baking him from the outside in. He peered over the edge of the three storey house and saw Pete, shirtless, his burly broad shoulders tanned and glistening in the heat, pouring a bottle of water over his chest before leaning against the truck. It sure was hot to be working. His eyes stung as sweat seeped in from the edges of his eyelids.

He leaned back slightly against the roof to take a look at Tulsa stretched out below.

He'd promised Pony he'd try to stand and stare once in a while, even if it was difficult to see the point of it, and he guessed that sweating on a roof was as good a time as any.

Besides, the view from the roof was great. The house they'd been roofing for the last week was one of the grandest in this the soccest of soc neighbourhoods. It was set on a little hill in a group of other large houses, set off from the road. Each house had it's own garden. No fences or anything, the gardens stretched neat and undisturbed from the sidewalk, tended by invisible workers like him. You could tell these people weren't worried about keeping out stray dogs or drunks

He followed the highway as it skirted round the outside of the city, taking in the neat roofs of hundreds of houses stretched out. In the distance the houses got less neat as the East side took over. Except from here it was hard to see the badly patched roofs, scrubland, untended gardens or rusty cars.

He leaned his head back and drained the water bottle. In fact, he couldn't see those things. It was probably just because he knew it was the east side that he saw those things in his mind's eye.

Darry glanced over the edge of the roof at the roomy back yard. More a garden really. All shrubs and flowers, and a basketball net hung up against back of the garage. He smiled wryly, remembering the newly broken lamp in their living room - the result of Soda and Steve's arm wrestling match getting a little out of hand this morning. It had been one of mom's favourites - a ceramic Greek figure holding up a bright peach shade. Not the prettiest of things but dad had picked it up at some garage sale in the soccy west side and mom had loved it.

He frowned, feeling a little guilty. He guessed if you lived in a place like this, you could use up your energy shooting hoops rather than rough housing in the living room and getting yelled into the next state by your big brother. He guessed a lot of things would be different if you lived in a house like this.

"Hey kid – you gonna do some work or just dream the day away?"

Darry looked up sharply. "Didn't know you were back," he said mildly as Pete's head appeared above the guttering.

"Well I am – get your ass in gear would you? We're already behind and I need to finish this job."

Darry rolled his eyes and turned back to the 23-year-old who'd just been made supervisor. _Nothing to do with being the boss' cousin,_ _of course_, Darry thought bitterly.

He leaned out and pulled the roughing up onto the roof, handing the replacement Stanley knife up to Gerry behind him.

Pete pulled himself onto the roof. "Get a move on - we need more of this." He said roughly.

"Sure." Darry said between gritted teeth and swung a leg over the edge of the roof onto the hot rungs of the ladder.

Darry used his foot to kick open the screen on their front door, his hands heavy with SAVERMART bags of tinned food and toilet roll. He leaned back into the door, using his elbow to lever open the handle. The house was eerily quiet, its shabbiness more obvious when there weren't any teenagers about to liven it up. He walked through the living room to the kitchen and laid the bags on the counter.

He glanced at the clock, slightly annoyed. He'd asked Pony to start dinner tonight so he could get to the discount shop on the edge of town before it closed. They were having a special coupon day. It was going to be hard to make money stretch this month.

_I'll give him fifteen minutes. _

He sighed and started putting away the groceries. It was going to have to be one of their "creative" dinners... maybe he should get Soda to work some magic on beans and tomatoes.

_No – scrub that._ He grinned._ We'll end up with some inedible purple mess, with a heap of sugar added._

Darry glanced at the clock again and forced himself to make a coffee and sit down to open that week's bills. Lately he'd taken to leaving them in a pile on the counter rather than actually opening them – he was so damn tired.

A loud ringing jolted him awake. He jerked up in surprise, knocking a pile of bills off the table. He glanced at the clock, _Where the hell has Pony got to? _

Hestrolled across the living room to pick up the phone.

"Hello? Can I speak to Darrell Curtis please?" An urgent voice of authority came on the line. Darry's heart sank.

_What now?_

Aloud, he replied, "Yeah speaking."

"St Francis hospital here. You're –" there was a pause on the end of the line, "Pony-boy Curtis' guardian?"

"What's happened?" Darry said, hearing his voice rise in panic.

"He was brought in this afternoon. He had an accident. Nothing too ser-"

Darry cut her off. "I'll be right there."


	2. pain

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

Ponyboy looked glumly at the light blue hospital curtain. It was stained in light circles towards the middle, and kept billowing in the breeze made by people walking past in the outside corridor.

_Darry's going to kill me. _He thought, wincing as he forgot about his leg and tried to move it along the gurney a bit. _He's gonna skin me. _

He tried moving his leg to the middle of the bed, but felt a sharp pain shoot through his thigh. He gave up and leaned back against the metal frame of the gurney. _On second thoughts bring it on – I can hardly feel any worse. _

He wondered how Curly was getting on with O'Toole. They were lucky it was O'Toole who came along and not one of those other cops – the mean ones who looked at you like scum if you had a bit of grease in your hair.

"Ponyboy Curtis?" Pony tried to wriggle down the bed a little as he heard steps in the hall.

_Please let it be Soda, please let it be Soda._

"Oh – hi Darry."

His biggest brother appeared at the curtain, followed quickly by the annoyed looking blond haired nurse who'd been looking after him, in the same make-a-wrong-move-and-I'll-call-security kind of way all afternoon.

Darry's face was etched with concern. His green eyes flicked down to Pony's plaster casted leg.

"Pony, you okay?" he said softly, automatically putting out his hand to touch his brother's leg.

Pony looked shiftily at the ground. "Yeah, sure Darry. I'm fine."

"What happened?" Darry asked, turning to the nurse. "Is he okay?"

The nurse hovered at the foot of the bed, picked up the chart and pretended to study it.

"He's fine. Six to eight weeks and the cast should come off. Try not to get it wet." She said in a flat tone, her eyes refusing to meet him.

_She thinks I'm a hood. _Darry thought, a flash of annoyance passing through him. He turned back to his brother, and repeated, "What happened?"

"Well – Curly and I –" Pony faltered as he saw his brother's shoulders stiffen. "Can we talk about this when we-"

Darry folded his arms in front of his chest, "no".

Pony sank down in the bed and winced. The curtains behind his brother suddenly parted.

"You this one's guardian?" O'Toole asked gruffly.

Darry raised his eyebrows at his youngest brother. "What's this all about?" he said, keeping his eyes on Pony.

"Can I talk to you outside for a moment?" Darry let his eyes linger on his younger brother a moment, before following the older man out of the cubicle. Pony tried to shuffle down a bit on the gurney.

_Where's Soda when you need him? _He thought, trying to wiggle his toes experimentally, and wincing.

_Six to eight weeks. I'll be lucky if I'm allowed out of the house to go to frigging school. _

"He what!" Pony jumped involuntarily as Darry's voice boomed across the corridor. He felt a burst of heat on his ears and cheeks, and heard O'Toole's muffled tones trying to calm his brother down. _Good luck with that, _he thought bitterly.

"You bet I will!" His brother's voice was a study in controlled anger. He was getting better at controlling his anger – in public at least.

It was funny – Pony never thought Darry had that much of a temper until their parents died. Recently though it had been like someone had flicked an angry switch in his head.

Pony sat up and tried to swing his leg over the left side of the trolley. _Gawd do I need a cigarette._

Darry burst through the curtains, his eyebrows knitted together in fury. "Let's go," he said briefly.

Pony looked down and saw his brother clenching and unclenching his fists furiously. "I can't."

"Ponyboy Curtis, now is not the time to test me, you understand?" he dropped his left hand down heavily on the frame of the trolley, making the bed jolt suddenly.

Pony looked up, met his brother's face and shrugged defiantly. "I can't. I can't walk. I must need crutches or something."

Darry made a low growling noise in his throat but turned back out of the cubicle, returning a moment later with a pair of wooden crutches. He thrust them against the side of the bed.

"Right – get down. I'll grab you." He stood at the head of the gurney and grabbed Pony's shoulders hard from behind. Pony bit his lip and pulled himself off the bed and onto the crutches.

Soda had had crutches once - two sets. He couldn't remember where he got them from, but he and Steve had spent the day hopping up and down their block, doing increasingly daredevil stunts until Soda fell on the bonnet of a car and Pony's mom had come out and ordered them inside.

It must have happened a year ago last spring. He shook his head quickly as if to erase the memory. It was too painful to think of that stuff yet.

Darry strode up to the reception desk so fast that Pony struggled to keep up. He waited by the chairs, wondering guiltily how much it cost to get your leg fixed. He'd sort of always wanted a broken leg, mostly for the crutches, until now, until he actually had one, and it hurt like hell. When he'd fallen from the roof he swore he could hear the bone crack. He shuddered.

Darry had a bundle of papers under one arm. He put one of his large rough hands in the small of his brother's back. "Let's go."

Pony cheered as he saw the living room light on. _Maybe Soda's back. _And then saw Two-Bit sprawled on their sofa, an empty bottle of beer by his side, laughing at some loud tv quiz show.

"Is Soda back?" Darry asked immediately.

Two-Bit looked up. "Hey there. It's the wounded soldier. You got crutches! Excellent. Want me to sign your cast?"

Pony gave Two Bit a half smile, "sure."

Darry raised his eyebrow at his little brother. "Ponyboy. Kitchen. Now. "

He watched as Pony turned a little pink around the cheeks, before scowling and swinging his crutches towards the kitchen.

Darry turned back to the sofa. "Two Bit – you seen Soda?"

"Uh – no. He's not back yet. I haven't seen him all evening."

Darry laid his jacket on the armchair by the door. "I tried him at DX station earlier. He sure didn't say anything about being home late." He interlocked his hands and stretched his arms out to crack his knuckles. "If you see him," he said pointedly, "tell him to get his ass home."

Two Bit yawned and turned back to the TV. "Will do."

He glanced up at Darry as he stood looking down at him. "Er, I thought I'd hang here for a bit though."

" 'Ain't you got a home to go to?"

"Sure - I just like hanging round here." He jerked his head at the kitchen. "I figure I'd just stay a while."

Darry frowned. "Whatever."


	3. and consequences

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Outsiders**

Darry pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, and exhaled deeply. He felt tense all over – and tired.

It would help if Two-Bit didn't act like I was some kind of freaking monster, he thought angrily.

Frowning, he pushed open the kitchen door.

Pony was leaning on his crutches by the counter inside the doorway. Darry felt a feeling of rage building up in his stomach as he watched his little brother trace a crack in the wooden counter with his middle fingernail.

When did it get so that feeling was so familiar?

He watched his little brother for a moment. Sometimes silence was the best way to break Pony.

He'd managed to control himself on the way home from the hospital by keeping his hands on the steering wheel, mouth firmly shut. And even now he figured the only way to at least _try _to keep his no fighting promise to Soda was to count to ten. Again.

He closed the door with his foot, took a step back, reaching behind to catch the cooker in his hands before leaning back, his eyes not leaving his brother's face. Pony refused to look back.

He waited a moment, and then heard his voice, loud in the small kitchen. "What the hell happened?

Pony scowled, a strand of long hair falling across his eyes.

_He looks tired - and young, _Darry thought.

A tight band of pain had started to throb across his forehead. _Actually scrub that. I'm tired - and young too. How did this become my responsibility again?_

Darry looked at his brother intently for about a minute and was about to open his mouth again, when Pony began to speak, in a low voice, his eyes not moving from the counter top.

"I didn't know what Curly was doing."

"Really." Darry replied, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm.

"He just – we were just – you know, hanging around, and sort of thought we'd try to get onto the roof."

Darry clenched and unclenched his fists behind his back, and felt his jaw tighten. "The roof of the grocery store. In the middle of the afternoon. In broad daylight."

Pony shifted uneasily. "It was just for a laugh, you know, to see if we could make it."

"Uh huh? And when Curly jumped into the yard, you didn't figure maybe this was a bit more serious than normal, huh?"

Pony leaned on his crutches and looked at his feet. Darry's voice was dangerously low, but getting louder.

"Or maybe you knew there was beer down there huh?"

Pony squirmed. _Darry makes me sound like some half-wit hood. _

"No- " he replied angrily.

"But you just figured out you'd act as look-out anyway?"

The younger boy frowned, concentrating on his feet.

_Well I was there by then anyway, wasn't I? I wasn't just about to run off like some scared kid. _But you couldn't say that to cool-headed Darry, he'd never get it.

Darry took a step across the kitchen and placed his hands, heavily, on his brother's shoulders.

"What the hell were you thinking Ponyboy?" He resisted the urge to shake him. "I oughta skin you. You _want _to end up in some boys' home with Soda? Huh?" Pony tried to shrug his brother's hands off. "Not to mention you could have killed yourself jumping off that roof."

_Great set of priorities there Dar, _Pony thought, scowling at the counter.

"Well?" Darry stood back, his eyes boring into his brother.

He shrugged, and looked up. Darry put a hand slowly through his hair, and took a couple of slow and deliberate steps backward steps back to the cooker.

Pony watched curiously as his brother frowned at the floor. He wasn't used to this cold, deadly Darry, battling to keep his temper.

Darry looked up. "Okay. Go to bed. You're grounded. You don't leave this house until I say so, you hear? That's no movies, no TV, no nothing." he said firmly, pausing on the last word. "And especially no hanging around with Curly."

Pony grunted in protest. "But Darry – "

"Pony I swear you're _this _close – don't test me."

Pony aimed the ball at a worn patch on the ceiling near the door and watched as it hit its target perfectly, knocking off a little plaster along the way, bouncing the short distance to the patch of wall above the door and back to his waiting hand. It had taken ages to work out all the angles – no mean feat when you had to drag a half dead, throbbing leg behind you, while you dug through the dubious contents of under-the-bed to retrieve your ball. Soda was even messier than he was.

_He'll sure be glad I found that other DX shirt though_, Pony reasoned, glancing at the garment, thick with dust, on the floor by his desk.

He tossed the ball in the air in preparation for another round, caught it, and threw it even harder against the ceiling.

_Maybe I can make it so it bounces against the dresser first and then -_

"Ponyboy Curtis, whatever you're doing - quit it!" He jumped as his eldest brother's voice bellowed from across the hallway.

He scowled. It was only half past ten. What was he meant to do? He'd read all his books and Darry wouldn't even let him sit in the living room to watch TV. He drew back his arm and threw the ball hard at the ceiling in defiance.

"Ponyboy! Don't make me come in there! You hear?"

He caught the ball and stuck out his tongue at the door.

He was just considering whether to make an all or nothing play across the hallway, with an attempt to swing an angle into the living room to really wind his eldest brother up, when he heard the screen door swing open.

"Where you been?" The walls of their house were paper thin.

"Out – jeeze Darry, cool it would'ya. We just met some girls at the DX. How's Pony?"

"Better than he should be. How'd you hear?"

"They were talking about it at the Dingo, so I came home."

"At the Dingo and you didn't think to ring? Come on Soda you know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah. But he's okay?"

"Yes – he okay." Darry lowered his tone and Pony strained to hear what he was saying. "They're not all talking about it are they? That's just what we need, for this to get back to social services –"

"They aren't, it hasn't." Soda interrupted quickly. "Relax – it's fine."

"I wish I could relax, little buddy." There was a pause and even though he couldn't see the scene Pony knew Darry would be doing his trademark hand through the hair thing.

He heard Soda kick off his shoes. "I'm whacked – I'm going to bed."

"Okay – but listen to me. Enough of this yeah, yeah business. You're gonna be late – you phone. You know that."

"I know, sorry Darry. Look, I'm going to bed, all right?"

Soda appeared in the doorway a second later, his blond hair flicked up messily at the front. He grinned at his younger brother, pulling the door shut behind him with his bare foot.

"Hey there, bootlegger. That's quite a cast you got there." He dropped onto the bed next to Pony and absent-mindedly rubbed his hand against the rough cast. He smelled of cigarettes and engine oil.

"Darry give you a hard time?"

Pony shrugged.

Soda looked up at his brother, his eyes full of concern. "It was a stupid thing to do, you know?" he said quietly.

Pony shifted uncomfortably. Soda's eyes sought out his own. "But I'm guessing you know that, huh?"

His brother shrugged again.

Soda sighed. Sometimes he gives about as much away as a brick wall. Can't say I didn't try.

He leaned over onto his side, his eyes roaming appraisingly over Pony's leg, and grinned. "It's looking a bit on the clean side though."

Pony smiled back at him. "Darry wasn't exactly itching to sign it. You wanna be the first?"

Soda grinned even wider and pulled his shirt and t-shirt over his head. "Jeeze it's hot tonight."

He stepped, bare chested, over to the desk, and rummaged around, mumbling to himself. He moved over to the closet and bent down among the detritus in the bottom while Pony strained to lean over to try to see what he was doing.

He turned back to Pony, three pots of blue, red and yellow paint in his hands. "This oughta do it."

His little brother grinned. "I 'spect so."

Soda opened the first pot and leaned over his brother's leg, dipping a finger into the red paint. He narrowed his eyes experimentally and examined the cast, before forming a large S by his left knee cap.

Pony glanced down and groaned. "Soda, not so big. I've got to wear this thing you know?"

His brother leaned back on his heels, examining his work. "Everyone needs a bit of colour in their lives." Soda dipped his finger in the yellow paint, ready to fashion a large O beside the first letter.

Pony groaned again. "You're not the one who's got to wear it- Soda - go easy."

Soda grinned wickedly at him. "You want people to know I'm your brother don't you?"


	4. breakfast in bed?

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

The room was a grey-cream with the half light of dawn when Pony woke up to a throbbing ache in his leg. He looked down and groaned as he saw the white bedcovers stained in patches of red, yellow and blue.

He moved Soda's arm off his chest and hauled himself up into a half sitting position before leaning back against the headboard.

Soda was lying facing him, taking deep peaceful breaths. He looked at his brother for a moment, thinking how Soda actually did sleep like a baby. His face sort of softened when he slept, making him look much younger than sixteen, and he flung his arms across the bed, so that nine times out of ten, his left one ended up across Pony's chest leaving his right one to sort of hung down over his edge of the bed.

He stomach felt empty, full of air, and he remembered how Darry had sent him to bed with no dinner.

Like I'm ten or something. His stomach gurgled loudly. That's practically child abuse, he half grinned, imagining how he could put that particular argument to Herr Darrell.

It wasn't so funny, though, to think about how it was more than a fortnight before school started back.

He pulled a hand through his hair and felt some grease, sticky on his fingers. He rubbed his hand on Soda's pillow and frowned.

It wasn't so funny either that he was going to have to make it up to Darry. Talking to his brother was as difficult as ever these days. It seemed like after they had their big fight things got a little better, but lately Darry seemed kinda distracted, tired, and worrying about money all the time. The little Pony brought in from lawn mowing and digging up gardens on the west side hardly seemed to make a dent in the pile of bills.

Glancing at Soda to check he was properly asleep, Pony swung round on his hips and reached down beside the bed for his jeans. He pulled himself up, a battered packet of Camels in his hand, and stretched his arm behind the headboard and across the window sill to release the window catch with his finger.

All in all it had been the crappiest of summers, he thought, as he struck a match against the wood of the headboard and sucked in hard to get the end paper to ignite – they were slightly wet for some reason. He relaxed slightly as he felt the familiar rush of nicotine hit his bloodstream.

No one to hang out with, Darry stressed out and tired all the time, Soda never home. Not to mention the stuff that happened before school broke up. He shivered. No, not to mention that, not to think about that. He glanced down. And now this.

The one time, he paused for effect, struck by the injustice of it, the one frigging time, I find someone to hang out with and have some fun. And this happens. He took a deep draw on his cigarette.

"You're gonna catch it if Darry catches you smoking in bed." Soda said blearily from beside him, his eyes still shut.

Pony scowled. "So, don't tell him."

Soda screwed up his face, opening first one eye, then the other. He yawned and sat up, stretching his arms high above his head. "What's got into you, this early?" he yawned again, twisting across Pony to look at the clock on his desk.

He groaned. "Pony – it's not even six yet."

His brother shrugged defensively. "I woke up."

Soda leaned back heavily against the pillows and shut his eyes determinedly. "Put it out." He said tiredly. "Or I'll catch it from Darry for letting you smoke in bed."

Pony shrugged. "So? Deny everything."

"And it stinks. "

Pony sighed loudly and make a point of grinding the butt hard into the window sill, before tossing it out the window. "Will you go get me something to eat?"

Soda opened his eyes and cocked an eyebrow at his brother, amused. "Get something yourself."

Pony looked shiftily at the floor. "Darry said not to leave this room."

Soda grinned and sat up, his brown eyes twinkling. "Oh I get it – Darry gave you the whole bed with no dinner routine, huh?"

Pony squirmed against the headboard and shrugged. "I could get something. It's just – " he ran the palm of his left hand across the top of his head. "I'd kind of rather not, you know, go there."

Soda grinned wider. "No kiddin'." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and moved to the door. He turned back and did a mock bow back at his brother, "Soda special comin' up."

Pony grinned, and listened as his brother moved in a typically un-quiet manner across the hallway to the kitchen. He figured it would be okay. Darry was so tired these days he used three alarm clocks to wake himself up in the mornings. That was something Soda had been exploiting – several times he'd climbed out of their window after Darry went to bed, and not come back until the morning. Pony wasn't so keen on being left on his own, but Soda never would tell him where he went.

And he never gets caught, Pony thought, returning to his theme of injustice. He's sneaked out tons of times this summer without Darry having a clue, and nothing. Then the one time I start having some fun – and this happens. He glanced at his leg. The bright colours of the paint had hardened into dull matt letters. If Darry had a heart, he'd let me off with a busted leg.

He jolted as he heard a pan hit the kitchen floor, and then Soda cussing, loudly, then quickly shushing himself. Pony grinned, good plan Sodapop. He listened for the sounds of his brother across the hallway but as usual, nothing was going to wake Darry up.

His mind wandered back to the day before.

It had started off so well.

Curly wasn't meant to be out the reformatory for another three months, so it had been quite a surprise when he saw him in the grocery store. Pony had been staring at the candy, wondering what to get to make his dime last the longest, when he spotted Curly's solid frame, leaning against the shelves at an odd angle, wearing a leather jacket that was much too hot for this weather…

He felt guilty when Curly split the candy with him, taking a seemingly endless supply from various pockets and sleeves. They sat on a bench in the park and gorged themselves. Curly told him a couple of stories about the reformatory that Pony was almost certainly sure weren't true. He was trying to make himself sound tough, tough like his brother, but with Curly it was harder to pull off.

Pony frowned.

So all things considered, when Curly dared him to climb the roof of the grocery store, he probably should have backed off. But he goaded, and the summer had just been so damn dull, and he figured, why not? 

Of course, as usual with Curly, when they actually got on the roof, things got a little more complicated. He'd realised it probably wouldn't turn out well when Curly dropped – with more agility than you'd think for someone short like him - into the yard behind the grocery store, and started talking about finding the beer they stored there.

He found some too. Except then he had to get back up on the roof, and Pony was laughing so hard at him trying to climb up on the crates with six bottles of beer crammed into his pockets and shoved up his sleeves, that he forgot to look out, and they were both surprised by O'Toole's sudden whistle.

Pony had reached down and pulled Curly up onto the roof, and then they'd split – jumping off different ends of the store. It would have been fine too, if O'Toole hadn't picked Curly to chase after, and if Pony hadn't landed so hard on a concrete block so he heard that sickening crunch of bone.

He sighed, Soda was taking his own sweet time. He pulled the packet of Camels from underneath his pillow and grabbed one between his lips, like he'd seen James Dean do at one of the Nightly Doubles. He was running the match along the headboard when he heard someone clearing their throat at the door. He felt a rush of heat in his ears and looked up slowly.

.


	5. Long hot day at the DX

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

Soda grinned from the door way, still dressed in just his underpants, balancing a plate of blue scrambled eggs high in one hand like some high class waiter, and four slices of bread in the other. "Made you jump."

Pony rolled his eyes at his brother and lit up. He took a deep drag and leaned back. Soda bounced back on to the bed, spilling a little of the eggs along the way. He reached over and deftly pulled the weed from his brother's mouth and flicked it out the window in one movement.

"Hey!" Pony leaned over Soda and grabbed his left arm, pulling hard.

Soda grinned wider, using the arm holding the eggs to pin his brother down. He picked a little of the eggs up off the plate with his left hand and slid them under Pony's t-shirt. "Holler uncle." He laughed.

Pony strained against him. "No-" he gasped.

Soda lifted up the fork and dropped a little more of the eggs in his hair.

"Give in?"

Pony strained wildly against his brother's arms and Soda felt himself being pushed back suddenly, the plate falling against the sheets. Soda laughed harder, putting his hands out in a gesture of surrender as Pony made a grab for him.

"Stop – truce, truce." He said quickly through his laugher, grabbing his little brother by the wrists. He was still stronger than Pony – just. He waited until he felt his brother relax before letting go. He handed him a slice of bread and a fork and put his hand under the sheet to turn the eggs back on to the plate before handing it back to the younger boy.

Pony looked at it dubiously.

"It's just eggs Pone." He dusted off a bit of bread and slid it on top of the blue mess. "Mind if we share a plate? There weren't many clean ones left out there."

He took a bite out of his blue egg sandwich. "It's good." He said through a mouthful, but Pony had already started to eat.

Soda yawned and leaned over the pump straining to look at the big black clock over the cash register. He clocked the time and sighed, leaning further over the gas pump, lifting his legs out in the air and kicking back. _Only three thirty. _He dangled in mid air for a minute, trying to find his balance. Man, was he bored.

Steve was inside manning the register while big Hal was out. He'd ditched school so he could make the extra shift while Hal went on some errands out by Broken Arrow. Normally that would make things a lot more exciting round here. 'Cept Hal had given strict instructions that Steve was to stay _inside_ doing a stock check - and Soda out.

It was still hot. The air was thick and heavy with moisture.

_The kind of weather that drains your energy right out, _Soda thought, then stood up straight as a shiny white corvette pulled onto the concrete yard, its tail fins catching the light. _That car's tuff, _Soda thought shielding his eyes with his left hand to take a look a better look at the occupants. _And the girls 'aint so dusty either._

He flashed a look at the booth. Steve had clocked the car too. Soda chuckled, _Man will he be pissed that I get to sort out this one. _

He threw back his shoulders, reaching behind his neck to flick up the collar of his DX shirt, and casually walked over to the car.

"Hey." He flashed the two girls a trademark grin. "How can I help you ladies." He let his tongue roll around on the last word, leaning an arm lazily on the passenger side door.

The driver tipped her Jackie-O sunglasses down and caught his eye with her own. She was wearing bright red lipstick – the kind that looked still wet, like it was painted on with a brush around her full, wide, lips. Soda noticed it matched the skirt that was riding up past her knees, revealing a perfectly lush pair of tanned legs.

He reluctantly brought his eyes back to her face.

She didn't smile. "Just fill her up, wouldya?"

Soda leaned in closer, "The car - you mean?" he said in a low voice, in his best Dally-talking-dirty manner.

The girl pushed the glasses back onto the bridge of her nose and stared straight ahead.

"Just do it, grease."

Soda stood up sharply. He wasn't used to having his overtures knocked back.

_Hell I know it wasn't the best chat up line in the world, but you didn't have to be mean about it._ He glanced back at the booth to see Steve laughing at him.

He gave the girl a dirty look, but she had leaned over to talk to her passenger, a white gloved hand on the dial of the car radio.

_She 'aint got no taste in music anyway, _Soda thought, wincing at the sound of the crooner filling the air. He pulled the nozzle over to the back of the car. _Nice car though. _The gas gurgled as it started to fill up.

_A 1961 model – must have cost a bomb. I'd have got it in red though – or yellow. _He carefully replaced the cap and strolled back over to the girls. The blond in the passenger seat was reading out loud from some movie magazine to the other one.

"That's a dollar seventy five."

The driver reached into her purse, lazily pulled out a five and handed it to him without looking up.

Soda took it and strolled back over to the booth. He grimaced at Steve and handed the note in through the service window. "Uptight soc girls." He muttered.

Steve laughed, "Never thought I'd see the day - Sodapop Curtis failing to get a girl? You're losing your touch."

Soda groaned and took the change back. "Who wants 'um anyway? More trouble than they're worth."

Steve smiled, "Sure they are."

The driver took her change without a word and the car roared out of the station. Soda strolled back to the booth.

"Man, it's quiet. I'm gonna take a look at that Mustang that came in this morning. Hal says it just needs a service."

Steve yawned, "Yeah, okay – I'll keep an eye out here. Hal called by the way, said he won't be back til seven."

"Seven ?" Soda groaned. "Great – another three hours of this."

It was hot in the corrugated shed where Hal stored the cars. The air was thick and smelled of oil. Soda coughed. _At least this beats standing outside for three hours. And Darry will be pleased about the extra hour's wages,_ he thought, cheering up suddenly.

There was only one car in at the moment – a tuff red Mustang that couldn't have done more than a couple of thousand miles, but the owner was real particular about keeping it in good shape. People brought their cars from all over to see Hal, even though the garage was in a rough part of town. He had a good rep with cars, made good money from them too.

"You done yet?" Soda looked round to see Steve's upside down head at the driver's side. His hair was so heavily greased it barely moved with the gravity of hanging there.

"Yeah, just taking a look." He said, sliding out from under the car.

"It's past seven. I closed the booth. Hal called. Said he got caught up fixing his brother's truck. Told me to lock up." Steve leaned against the driver's door. "This sure is a tuff car." He said, laying a hand affectionately on the leather upholstery.

Soda nodded slowly, his eyes running over the hood appraisingly. "You ain't kidding."

He looked up, wiping his hands on his shirt. Steve had a mischievous look on his face. "You checked it over properly?"

Soda shrugged, confused. "Sure I have – a coupla times in fact - to kill time."

Steve leaned over the driver's seat. "You know, Hal usually takes these for a test drive afterwards – just to check they're working properly and all."

He smiled infectiously.

Soda grinned back. "I don't know," he said carefully, rubbing a bit of imaginary dust off the windshield. He thought about those soc girls in their tuff car acting like he didn't even exist. Probably hadn't done a day's work in their lives.

_Hell, this probably belongs to some spoilt soc brat too. I drive better than them - what can it hurt?_

He looked up slowly at Steve, and nodded, his eyes dancing recklessly. "I s'pose it's best make sure it works and all. You know – out on the open road."


	6. tuff cars and soc girls

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

Soda nudged the steering wheel and felt the Mustang move smoothly to the right.

_It corners like it's on rails, _he thought grinning, as lights from the run down streets of their neighbourhood flashed by him. He flicked on the lights. It was just after sunset and the night was setting in.

"Wanna cruise by the Dingo?" Steve was sitting beside him, running his comb through the complicated swirls of his hair.

"Sure. " Soda turned to look at his friend, and rolled his eyes. "Jeeze, Steve you're worse than a girl."

Steve punched him on the arm, playfully, but hard. "If you've got it, flaunt it Sodapop."

He pulled down the passenger mirror and slipped down a last lock of dark hair over his forehead. " 'Sides we 'aint all Soda Curtis with the gals all _swoonin'." _He looked at him pointedly, his mouth twitching with laughter.

Soda groaned, "You're not gonna let this afternoon lie, are you?"

Steve gave him a half smile out the side of his mouth, and winked. "Nope. Way I see it, you might be losing your touch."

Soda laughed, "Is that right? Well we'll just see about that next time we're partyin' at Bucks, shall we?"

He touched his foot to the gas pedal and smiled widely as the wind hit his hair. Sometimes he couldn't imagine being anything other than sixteen.

Steve looked at him quizzically. "What happened to Angelique?"

Soda shrugged, "She 'aint called in a while."

Steve put his arm out the window and leaned back casually. They were getting near the Dingo. Soda slowed down for the intersection, and stopped as the lights turned to red.

"You've been going through more girls than I've had hot dinners lately."

Soda shrugged, "Nah, just the one. You can't get too attached though, you know?"

Steve gave his friend a strange look out of the corner of his eye, as the car crossed the intersection and cruised slowly towards the Dingo. There was a clutch of people, some hoods, but mostly plain old greasers, sitting in the parking lot. A couple of them looked up as they drew level. Steve scanned the cars, "No talent here tonight."

Soda grinned, "Talk about me? You're the one that's hot for it lately."

"Let's just get out of here – see what this baby can do, huh?"

"Sure thing." Soda grinned wickedly and hit the gas pedal, hard.

Darry glanced at his wrist. _Seven thirty already. _He turned off the ignition out of the old Ford and sat for a minute looking over the fence into their house.

_The lights are on, so I guess Pony's minded me – or is pretending to, _he thought wryly.

He hated this. _Since when did I have to be the bad big brother in all of this? They used to think I was cool. _

He glanced automatically at the plain steel watch on his arm. _Dad's watch. What would you do? _

He sighed in exasperation at himself. _Jesus Dar, get it together. He's dead, that's what he did, get over it already. _

He grabbed his tool belt from the passenger seat and pulled the heavy old Ford door open, jumping onto the ground outside. It was still hot, even though it was properly dark now. The neighbourhood dogs had started up their nightly barking, and the crickets were loud in his ears as he walked across the burnt grass to the front porch.

He glanced in the window and released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Pony was leaning against the bottom of the sofa, opposite Two-Bit, his leg spread out straight in front of him, looking lazily at a fan of cards in his hand.

Darry pulled open the screen door and stepped inside. He sniffed, "Is that dinner I smell?"

Pony pulled himself up using the side of the sofa, his cards still held tight in his hand, lifted himself onto one crutch, and moved into the kitchen, without looking at his brother.

Two-Bit glanced up, "It sure is. I'm hungry too – and you've run out of beer."

Darry's eyes followed his brother into the kitchen. "My heart bleeds." He dropped his tool belt on the sofa and leaned down to turn on the TV. The news wasn't on yet – just some wildlife show. _Great. _

He stood up and stretched before picking his tool belt off the sofa, and moving into the hallway to dump it inside his room. He heard the strains of cartoon laughter as Two-Bit changed the channel, and rolled his eyes. It was like having a forth brother around sometimes with Two-Bit these days. Didn't he ever go home?

Darry sat on his bed and pulled off his boots, setting them neatly by the dresser for the morning. He made his way back across the hallway in his bare feet, pushing open his brothers' room with one finger as he went passed.

Pony was laying out plates on the table as he came in to the kitchen. "Soda's not back is he?"

His brother shrugged, "No."

"He call?"

Pony shrugged again, pulling down a couple of mismatched glasses to add to the arrangement on the table. "No."

Darry sighed. "Great." He watched as Pony limped awkwardly over to the oven, opening the door and peering inside with uncharacteristic attention.

"I'm gonna wash up before dinner, okay?" His brother grunted in response.

Pony waited till the shower stopped and his brother emerged from the bathroom into the kitchen, a towel wrapped round his waist, revealing a tan chest glistening with beads of water, all lean body and defined muscle.

Pony wondered idly if he'd ever look like that. _Probably not. _Darry still looked like a football player, with big broad shoulders and a nipped in waist.

His older brother moved past him, holding the towel with one hand as he moved through to the living room and back to his room.

Pony leaned on his crutch and looked at the white-turned-grey floor of the kitchen. There were interesting green splodges around the outside from when Soda threw pancake mix over him two weeks ago.

_We'll need to clear that up before the state comes. _He frowned at the doorway and sighed. _For God's sake, stop being such a woose and do this already._

He swung across the kitchen on one crutch and followed his brother's trail into the hallway. Darry's door was still open.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched as his brother sat on the bed to pull on a clean pair of jeans.

"What is it Pony?" Darry stood up, breathing in as he pulled up the zip of his jeans. "You know I said you can't go out, so don't even ask."

Pony set his crutch further into the room and pulled himself inside. He reached out and picked up a book on Darry's dresser and casually leafed through it. Darry's room was much tidier than his and Soda's - everything had a place. Hell, even the bed was made.

He felt his older brother looking at him from across the room. "No it's not that." Pony felt his face redden.

"Well, what?" Darry picked up a clean dark t-shirt he'd laid out on the bed. "Pony?" he added, slightly more impatient, pulling it over his head.

"It's just –" Pony tucked the paperback under his arm and look his brother in the face. "I'm sorry, okay? I know it was a stupid thing to do and I didn't mean to make things worse."

Darry paused in the process of rolling up the sleeves of his T-shirt and turned to look at his brother, one arm still on his sleeve.

_He looks miserable,_ he thought grimly.

"It's just . " Pony's voice dropped and he looked awkwardly at the floor. "I had no one to hang out with, and I found Curly, and I sort of thought it would be fun." He looked up, "I'm sorry, okay?"

Darry finished tucking his sleeve up, moving towards the dresser to fix his hair. He turned to Pony and cracked a rare grin. "Okay, 'nuff said." He said, ruffling his brother's hair.

"What's for dinner, anyway little buddy?"

Pony smiled back broadly, "Beans and – " he looked at Darry suddenly stricken. "oh shit." He lifted his clutch and quickly left the room, getting to the kitchen in time to see smoke billowing out of the oven.

Seventy felt pretty fast on a straight road, at night, with the roof down. Soda leaned over the driver's door so his head was buffeted hard by the wind and whooped loudly.

Steve grinned nervously beside him. "Hey – go easy Soda, we don't want to crash the thing."

Soda pulled his head back in, grinning wildly. "I love speeeeed."

Steve laughed, "Hell, this 'aint even fast – you wait til it's my turn."

"Not fast enough huh?" Soda pressed harder on the gas pedal, holding tightly onto the steering wheel to keep the car steady as it flew down the road.

The wailing started just after they hit eighty.

"Shit, shit, shit. " Soda automatically slowed down as he saw blue lights flash in his rear view mirror.

Steve cursed under his breath. "You'll need to pull over." He glanced at Soda, who was repeating the same mantra slowly to himself. "Unless you want to try for the state line?" he said sarcastically.

Soda glared at him, switching on the indicator to show he was about to pull over. "Any more bright ideas?"

Steve smiled grimly, "We're just testing it out. We work for the garage. What can they do? Give you another ticket?"


	7. laying down the law

DISCLAIMER: I own nuffing...

Soda watched through the driver's mirror as the cop closed the door of the patrol car, tipped his hat on his head, and strolled slowly over to the convertible. He waited until he drew level with the driver's door before leaning over.

"You boys were going at quite a pace back there."

Soda squinted as the full beam of torchlight hit his eyes.

"Uh, " he thought wildly for an excuse, "Sorry officer."

"Uh huh." The cop stepped round to the front of the Mustang, the beam of light from his torch dancing against the hood. Soda said a silent prayer. "Pretty nice car you got here."

Steve coughed. "Uh, yeah, we were road testing it."

The cop pulled the torch up to Steve's face. "Were you now? Fancy that."

He walked back to the driver's side, reached over and quickly pulled out the keys. "Step out of the vehicle please boys."

Soda let his head fall against the head rest, closed his eyes and let out a short breath.

_Darry's going to kill me._

His eyes still closed, he pulled open the door and stepped onto the gravely road.

The cop gestured for him to walk over and join Steve who was standing, leaning against the passenger door, his features carefully arranged in an attitude of indifference.

"Driving license and registration please." The cop held out an open palm.

Soda glanced at Steve. "He told you, we were taking it for a test drive – we 'aint got the registration details."

"Is that right? Your license then, please."

Soda sighed, and considered flat out refusing. _I could take the fifth, and then they wouldn't know who I was and Darry wouldn't find out and - _

"Boy, I'm not gonna ask you again." The cop's deep drawl interrupted his thoughts. He sighed again, and reached into his jeans pocket to pull the license out of his wallet.

The cop brought his torch up to read the name on the card. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis. This a joke?" he brought the beam back up to Soda's face, causing him to squint. Steve smirked.

"No it 'aint a joke – it's my name."

"It's your name, huh? Well Sodapop Patrick I have to tell you and your little friend here, that I'm not entirely convinced this is your car."

Steve turned angrily to the cop. "No shit Sherlock? We told you already, we're testing it."

Soda groaned. _This isn't good._

- - - - - - - - - - - -- - -- - - - - - - - - - -

Soda shifted uncomfortably on the hard seat and rubbed his wrists. _Who knew handcuffs would be so uncomfortable?_

He glanced at Steve, who'd stretched his long lean body out on the bed opposite, lying staring at the ceiling like a hardened con.

"Did you have to cuss at him like that?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's why we're here right enough. He sees two greasers in a car like that and he's just gonna let us go? Sure he is." Steve leaned over and smashed his fist, hard into the concrete wall. "Course if you'd just called Darry –"

Soda winced. _Great. This was just great. _

_Steve could get moody all he liked. There was no way he was gonna call Darry to come and pick them up. It'd kill him to have to come and pick up his brother at the cop shop. _

_He'll just have to come up with another plan_ Soda thought stubbornly. _Course if he didn't come up with something soon, they'd both be mincemeat if the cops took it on themselves to call home…_

"You know I'm not gonna do that."

Steve sat up, and rubbed the flats of his hands against his face. "Yeah I know." He wondered what his dad would make of all this if he found out. Probably nothing that wouldn't hurt, a lot.

He sighed. "It's okay. You can stand easy. I called Hal – he's gonna come and explain."

"Hal –" Soda said slowly, turning it over in his mind. "He mad?"

"No, delighted." Steve shot him a hard look. "What do you think?"

Soda groaned. _Where the hell am I gonna get a new job?_

- - -- - - - - - - -- -- - - - -

Soda cracked half a dozen eggs into the fat of the frying pan. He'd forgot to eat dinner sometime along the way last night, they'd run out of chocolate cake, and boy was he hungry. He reached over to pull out the last slices of bread from the pack and put them on plates. They were running low on food again. He shouted at the door. "Breakfast!"

"Woah-" Darry appeared suddenly behind him. "No need to yell, little buddy, I'm right here." He leaned past him to pick up the coffee pot, and sat down at the table with a mug.

Soda grunted, and picked up a spatula to lift up the eggs.

Darry watched his brother's back as he deftly moved the eggs onto three plates, and sipped at his coffee slowly.

"You were out late last night." He said mildly, as Soda opened the refrigerator and took out some grape jelly.

Soda carried the plates - and jelly – to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I thought I told you to call."

Soda dipped his knife into the jelly, and frowned. "I can take care of myself Darry."

His brother gave him an odd look and spun one of the plates towards him with a flick of his wrist. "What's with the attitude, little buddy?"

Soda shrugged, looking at his plate and chewing steadily. "I'm just sick of you wanting to know where I am all the time, I'm sixteen, I can take care of myself."

Darry raised his eyebrows sceptically. "That's called being guardian, Soda."

"Well, I'm sick of it." Soda said, moodily.

"Well, frankly that's tough." Darry quickly glanced at the door. "Which reminds me, you remember what Sunday is?"

Soda looked up slowly, "yeah," he said quietly.

"Well," he said slowly, taking a bite of his eggs. "I think we should do something. Stick around okay?" Soda nodded.

Darry chewed thoughtfully as he flicked through a bundle of letters on the table.

"Is that a final notice?" Soda pointed at a beige envelope, marked with bold red letters. Darry winced. "Yip, electricity. They better be able to hold of til the end of the week though." Darry brought his left hand up to his face and rubbed his temple.

_When did he start to look so old, _Soda thought, guiltily.

Darry glanced at his watch. "I gotta get going. We're running behind on that Hillside job – you wanna lift?"

Soda looked at the table. "Nah – I'll walk."

"Suit yourself." Darry stood up, "Make sure Pony's up before you go, will you? Tell him to do those dishes."

He picked up his tool belt from the counter.

"And Soda?" he turned round and pointed his index finger at his brother's chest. "Don't make me have to look at changing how we run things round here, you understand?"

Soda scowled and stuck out his tongue at his brother's retreating back. He picked up his fork and moved the remaining bits of uneaten egg round the plate. Suddenly he wasn't feeling so hungry. And where the hell was he gonna find another job?


	8. chocolate milk and cigarettes

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders**

Pony flicked his fingers and watched as the tennis ball sailed towards the ceiling. He and Darry may have made up, but it didn't stop him still being grounded, and man, was he bored.

It was different somehow sitting in your room reading when you knew the others were in the next room, and Two-Bit could come in at any moment and interrupt to take you to a movie or something, but when you _knew _that the highlight of your day would be seeing if there was enough stuff left over in the kitchen to make a chocolate cake, it was kind of a different matter.

He'd already snuck into Darry's room to see if he could find anything interesting to read, but it appeared his brother had hidden the more interesting books real well, because Pony had come out with nothing apart from Darry's old school year books. That was funny for a bit, especially when you saw his hair, and that stupid suit mom made him wear to his first dance freshman year, but apart from that, the Curtis house was a long way from interesting.

He caught the ball and put it back down beside him on the bed. It was half way through the morning and the air had taken on a still, turgid quality, the light outside darkening like it was preparing for a storm.

It was still hot though. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and shifted uncomfortably. His leg was still throbbing - the three aspirin Darry left on his bedside table didn't do much to ease the pain. And it itched like crazy.

Soda was acting weird too. He'd barely slept and then he'd heard him and Steve whispering in the kitchen before leaving, late as usual, for work. He picked up the ball and threw it hard into the air again.

_Usually Soda tells me everything. _He caught the ball and aimed again, for a patch of ceiling above the door frame.

_Actually scrub that – Soda's not told me anything worth telling since summer started. He didn't even properly explain what happened with Sandy._

A loud knock jerked him out of his thoughts. He jumped, disorientated, and looked up at the window to see Curly's grinning head pointing at the window latch.

He pulled himself up to the window, wincing as his leg hit the side of the bed.

"You took your time." His friend growled.

Pony nodded in the direction of his cast. "It's kinda difficult to move, you know, when you've got this lump of plaster over half of you."

He let himself fall back onto the bed as Curly hauled himself over the sill.

"And you're such a hood – what's wrong with doors?"

Curly pulled his second leg into the room and dropped his dirty boots on the bed beside Pony.

His eyes twinkled, "All good practice man." He set his legs down on the bed. " 'Sides I thought I'd come and see how you were, and I didn't fancy busting into superman, you know."

Pony rolled his eyes. "Very tough of you." He glanced at the door, "Actually if you hear his truck, beat it out of here, okay?"

Curly's eyes danced in amusement, "So I'm not in ole Darry's good books, huh?"

Pony frowned, and swung his legs round off the bed.

"Neither you nor me." He said reaching out to pick up his crutch from the floor and pulling himself up to a standing position. "What happened anyway?"

Curly shrugged. "Nothin'. They couldn't pin a thing on me."

He reached down and lifted Soda's broken sunglasses from the floor, starting to twirl them between his fingers. "So you busted your leg up pretty good, huh?"

Pony nodded, and swung out towards the door. "Want something to eat?"

Curly nodded, "Sure."

- - -- - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - -

Darry slowed down and shifted down a gear as the truck hit a deep wave of water. The weather had broken just after lunch, and after an hour of sitting in Pete's truck, he'd finally agreed it didn't look like it was gonna let up any time soon, and sent the crew home.

Some of the other guys had talked about going over to some bar out by the tracks, but Darry didn't have any money. Besides even though he had more responsibilities than most of those guys, he wasn't even legal yet.

Darry indicated right and turned up their street. It was awash with water. Deep puddles were forming at the side of the road where the drains were blocked, and trash floated down the current formed in the gutter, with nowhere to go.

In the soc side of town the rain smelled clean, made the grass seem greener, washed down the driveways, as the wives and maids pulled the curtains back and put on the lights, preparing for an afternoon at home. But over on the East side, the rain mixed with the burnt grass of the front yards to make a browny liquid that poured down the sidewalk, taking with it the trash people carelessly dropped outside their houses.

Already the blocked drains had started to smell. Darry pulled up outside their house, pulled the neck of his shirt over his head, and made a dash inside.

"Pony!" He pulled open the screen door and made a face at the messy living room.

_He could have at least picked some of this stuff up. _

"Pone?" he called again, walking through the hall. He tapped open the door to find his brother lying on the bed, seemingly engrossed in a book.

He grunted at the open window. "Pony – don't you ever use your head? It's howling up a storm out there. You should keep the window closed." He moved over to close the latch.

Pony put down his book and looked up, yawning. "It's hot in here."

"Well, it'll be wet real soon, too, if you keep the window open." Darry glanced at the room. "I thought I told you to clear up this room? It's a mess in here." He pointed at the bedcovers, "And those need washing - if that paint ever comes out."

His brother smirked. Darry shook his head. "You can do it when you get back. You wanna come to the store with me?"

Pony jumped quickly up off the bed, grabbing a crutch from the side of the wall. "Yip."

His brother smiled wryly. "Well take both of those with you – I don't want you falling and breaking the other leg."

Darry picked up the coupons from the kitchen counter and followed his brother back out to the truck.

He grinned involuntarily as Pony swung enthusiastically down the porch into the rain. _He's like an excited puppy. Maybe it's about time to give him his freedom before he drives me insane. _

- - -- -- - - - - - - -

Darry handed his brother the coupons.

"Anything we need, we need to get it with these, you understand?" Pony nodded, his eyes, scanning the magazine rack inside the door. "I mean it, I need some help Pone, I've had to cut the grocery budget – we're broke, so I need a bit of creative thinking."

Darry sighed as his brother nodded vacantly and started to move over to the magazines. He grabbed him by the shirt. "This way," he said firmly, directing him towards the fruit and vegetables.

Darry looked back from the checkout to see his brother ambling towards him. "Did you get the apples?"

"Huh?"

"Ponyboy!"

His brother grinned and attempted to cock one eyebrow the way Two-Bit had been trying to teach him to all summer. "Cool it Dar, they're here." He placed the bag on the belt and stood back.

Darry shook his head, "I should have left you at home at this rate."

The younger boy shrugged, "I helped didn't I? We got enough stuff."

Darry glanced at the contents of the belt - chocolate milk, oats, two loafs of bread, a bag of bruised apples, two packs of ground beef that went out of date that day, a sack of potatoes, some carrots, a bag of donuts discounted to a nickel, a couple of bags of chips, stuff to make chocolate cake, a carton of cigarettes, and a jumbo-sized jar of peanut butter that was on special offer. _It'll take Soda about a day to get through this lot._

"Can I go look at the magazines?"

Darry looked up. "No – you're grounded, remember?"

Pony looked at him mutinously. Darry sighed, "Pone, the last time you had a look at the magazines you spent so long there, the guy made me buy one, remember?"

His brother shrugged, "That was only because I accidentally ripped it."

"Exactly."

Darry turned back to the front and heard his brother sigh heavily behind him.

_Well, tough. I'm not spending my last dollar on some movie magazine. _

His eyes scanned the queue impatiently. It wasn't moving very fast. He took a small step back as he breathed in a sour whiff from the man in front. He was leaning over his groceries protectively, carrying them in his arms, rather than putting them on the belt. His hair was dark and matted, his brown jacket too heavy for the time of year, and wet. He was shuffling along like some veteran of a chain gang, earning a look from the sharp eyed cashier. Darry frowned. It worried him how people got like that, lost, dirty and defeated.

The cashier rung up the last item. Darry shifted impatiently, watching as the man in front pulled out some change, along with a dirty handkerchief and a ball of roughly coiled string. He started counting out the change into the cashier's hand.

"You're a dollar short."

The man looked at her, confused, and started digging in his other pocket.

"Look if you ain't got the money, you'll need to put something back."

The man pulled a hand through his hair and muttered something under his breath.

"Here." Darry said quickly, handing the cashier some change.

The man grunted and moved off quickly, clutching his brown paper bag protectively to his chest. Darry watched him move off, and picked up the chocolate milk and the cigarettes. "You should be cutting down anyway." He said gruffly, putting them on the side of the belt.

- - - - - -

"What d'you do that for?" Pony dropped the last of the bags behind his seat. The rain had eased off and it was turning out bright and wet.

"You worried about your cigarettes huh?"

"No – I just – " His little brother looked at him strangely. "Just not something I thought you'd do."

Darry leaned over and pulled a couple of apples out of one of the bags. He handed one to his brother, and leaned against the truck. He could feel the younger boy's eyes on him. "I dunno, it's just," he took a bite. "People need dignity, you know?" he turned back to Pony, "You want a leg up?"

"Nah – I can manage." Pony used one leg to spring up into the seat of the truck.

"Hey-" Darry turned as winced as the man from the check out moved towards them. His eyes moved down to the quart of scotch, half out of its brown paper bag, lid opened. He groaned. _Great call, Dar._

The man swayed slightly and moved closer.

"Look man – I don't have any more –"

The older guy put his arm on Darry's shoulder, his sharp blue eyes meeting his face. "I wanted to say thanks." He looked younger than he thought in the queue – maybe in his thirties rather than his fifties.

The man pulled his arm off his shoulder and walked past the truck towards the highway. Darry leant back against the truck and watched him go.


	9. trying hard to forget

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Outsiders, just borrowing them…**

Darry lay on his bed, his eyes half open, trying to ignore the suspicious looking crack that had formed on the ceiling above his closet. _I swear this house is falling apart._ There was a loud bang from the kitchen. _For God's sake Sodapop, can't you shut up for a minute?_

He opened his eyes wider and laced his fingers together behind his head. He glanced at one of the alarm clocks on his dresser, and groaned. He couldn't figure out why Soda had taken to getting up so early. You'd think that with the late nights he'd been making, he'd be glad to idle about in bed a bit longer. Sunday was their only day off, but it was getting harder and harder to sleep in these days. Not that any of them would find it easy to sleep in today, however much they'd like to. He banged his head against the pillow and sighed loudly.

Soda was crouched _in _rather than over the oven, his head stuck deep inside.

Darry leaned down and pulled on the back of his shirt. "Soda – what're you doing? Get up."

Soda emerged slowly, gingerly moving his head back from the top of the oven.

"Just tryin' to see what's wrong."

"Uh huh." Darry looked at his brother's dirt-smeared face sceptically. "Well sticking your head in it probably aint the way to find out."

Soda shrugged and sat down on the floor – "You try it, the dials don't work."

Darry turned one with his index finger and thumb. Nothing happened. _Great. What else can break? We're gonna end up eating off a frigging campfire at this rate – I'm sure social services will love that._

He groaned suddenly and walked over to the light switch. He pressed the lever. Nothing. "Great, just great." He turned to Soda. "There's nothing wrong with the oven. It's the power. We've been switched off."

Soda scratched his head. "Huh. But that's not happened before."

Darry placed the palms of his hands against the counter and leaned against it, facing the floor. "No kiddin'. " He slammed his palm hard against the countertop. "Great, just great."

- - - - - - - -- - - -- - --

Even though it was the third week in August, it was cold in the cemetery. There seemed to be a permanent wind round the hillside plot where their parents were buried. Darry stood back and watched his two brothers. Tears had formed salty lines down Soda's face before they got up the hill. He kept brushing them away fiercely with the back of his arm, and now he was bent down over the shared grave, shoulders heaving as he pulled away the weeds that had formed near the plain headstone. Darry shifted uncomfortably. _We should come up here more often. _A year was a long time.

He glanced at his youngest brother, shoulders held stiffly as he stood a little apart, staring at the headstone. Darry felt the occasional glance as Pony turned to gauge how his eldest brother was reacting.

_What am I supposed to say to him? I don't know how he's meant to grieve any more than I know how I'm meant to. Not that I've had time though that's probably a good thing,_he thought, ruefully. He wondered again if it was a mistake, bringing him here. Pony hadn't had a really bad nightmare since after Dally died. _But you can't just forget people. _

A year was a long time. Darry remembered the funeral as though it was at the bottom of a really deep well – and one that he'd been climbing out of ever since. He wouldn't want to live the last year again, not ever. And if he prayed, he prayed the next one wouldn't be as bad, not brilliant, but certainly not as bad as last year.

He guessed he should be thinking about their parents. It was hard to remember them on top of a windy, cold hill. That wasn't where his laughing, happy, hard working dad belonged – and certainly not where mom belonged, with her hit and miss food and fiery temper.

_What would you think of me now though, eh? A year afterwards and we're still together, just. Things are creaking at the seams and I can't even make the utilities even though Soda's had to drop out to help me, and I sent Pony to work cutting lawns for socs. We're still together, except Pony's mixing with hoods, and Soda's getting a little wild like he used to, except you're not here to keep him in line, and I'm just his brother, what do I know? _

Darry looked up at the lines of headstones stretching up the hill. _We may not even be able to visit you together next year. _He shook his head as if to clear it of uncomfortable thoughts and stepped forward. He laid the bunch of multicoloured flowers on the headstone. He wasn't sure what they were, just whatever Soda could grab from one of those huge soc gardens on the west side, while he kept the engine running. Soda had picked a bunch of yellow flowers for himself and he placed them on the bottom of the stone. Pony put his – a single white rose – beside Soda's.

Darry cleared his throat. "Right let's go." He said more gruffly than he meant to, and they trailed separately down the hill.

The house was quiet when they got back. Two-Bit and Steve knew better than to come round today.

Darry shivered. It had started to rain outside and the house was unseasonably cold. Pony made a bee-line for his room. Darry put his hand on one of his crutches to stop him. "Come on Pone," he said, his voice coming out softer than usual. "Let's get some dinner."

" 'Um not hungry." Pony mumbled, his head facing the floor.

"Well, eat anyway." Darry said, putting an arm on his shoulder and steering him into the kitchen.

Soda laid a loaf of bread on the table along with some grape jelly, peanut butter, and chocolate chips he found in the cupboard, and sank into one of the kitchen chairs.

They ate peanut butter sandwiches in silence and went to bed when it got too dark to see anymore.

_Yeah, they'd be real proud, _Darry thought sarcastically as he lay in bed and pulled up the sheets.

- - - - - - - -


	10. dark hope

Darry glanced at one of the three alarm clocks by his bed, its lime green hands faintly luminous in the half light of pre-dawn. Five thirty. It wasn't like he didn't need the extra sleep either.

He interlocked his fingers behind his head, lay back against his pillow and contemplated the ceiling. He couldn't shake off the cold feeling he'd picked up at the cemetery. The feeling that somehow he wasn't winning the battle.

_Hell, I'm not even winning this round._

The only good thing about this time of morning was the quietness of the sleeping house. Some mornings, at the beginning, he'd wake up and forget what had happened. His room hadn't changed much, still had the high school football pendants on the wall (he'd ripped down the college ones last Christmas, even the one for Oklahoma state). So it hadn't been too hard to wake up and listen out for mom cooking breakfast and squealing when dad picked her up unexpectedly or prodded her in the ribs.

He sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had a lot to do. He'd have to pay the power bill, and the penalty fee to get the heat back on. He couldn't afford for the other two to start getting itchy over that, start worrying, not to mention social services. That would be all they'd need a simple excuse to take them away

These days he felt less like a tight rope walker, but some one who had fallen off the tight rope at the same time as the lights in the big top went out. He just needed to get up there and start balancing again before anyone noticed he'd fallen.

A sound from the street disturbed him. He walked over to the window and used two fingers to ease the curtains open a crack.

A dark top of the range Cadillac was parked outside their house, flanked by two short blunt looking men in dark jackets and sunglasses. A third man, of about 40, wearing an dark suit in an expensive fabric, his shoes shone to a high spit shine that reflected the blue sky and the straggly bushes in the front yard, was making his way up their path, his cane cracking against the broken stone.

Darry recognised Brett Hope immediately.

_What the hell ?_

He pulled on his jeans and grabbed a tshirt from the chair, moving quickly to the front door, pulling the tshirt over his head as he went.

He opened the door just as the man on the other side opened the screen and reached up his left hand to rap.

"Hey, don't wake up my brothers," he said gruffly.

If the well groomed man on the other side was taken aback, he didn't show it. His tanned face was puckered with acne scars and he had two real ones too: one that snaked it's way across his cheek to behind his left ear, the second a nip under his right eye. But apart from that, the years hadn't really touched Brett Hope - he looked well preserved.

He cracked a smile that wasn't reflected in his eyes, "Darrell Junior. You know you're the spitting image of your dad?"

Darry looked at the man steadily, "so I've been told".

Brett dropped his smile. "But maybe you've got your mom's manner. You gonna invite me in?"

Darry shrugged. "I've got ten minutes."

Brett pulled open the screen door and stepped into the living room. "Jeeze, it's been years since I was in this house."

Darry shrugged, leaning down to pick up Soda's DX shirt from the floor and move a bunch of Pony's homework books off the sofa. "As I remember it, my mom didn't want you here."

Brett had moved over to the mantel and picked up their parent's wedding picture. He smirked, "No, Ruth to her credit, never was that keen on me."

He put the picture back down and sank into the armchair by the window. He winced, "you gotta coupla springs loose in this chair."

Darry shrugged his shoulders. "Why are you here?"

Brett crackled his knuckles outwards and frowned. "Why? Well to pay my respects son. It was awful what happened."

"Uh huh. It was. It was also a year ago now. Most people already paid their respects."

Brett turned sharply and fixed Darry with a stare. "Don't get mouthy with me, son. I don't doubt it's been a hell of a year, but Ruth and Darryl wouldn't have liked it."

Darry sank down into the sofa and scrutinised his visitor.

Brett's eyes were closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. When he spoke his voice was slightly off key, like he was on the verge of being emotional, but holding it in. "Your dad was my best friend son, you know that. Hearing how he died, it's, it was real hard."

Darry shifted on his seat and studied at the oily patch soda'd rubbed into the armchair. Brett opened his eyes. "But you're right – a year is a long time. I came as soon as I could. How have you been?"

Darry shrugged again.

_Damn – why does he make me feel like some teenager?_

"It can't have been easy?"

Darry frowned. "It ain't been easy." He said simply.

"How are your college plans coming along?"

_I thought you stopped speaking to dad ten years ago._

"Darryl was always talking about how proud he was of you."

Darry bit his lip, was ashamed when he felt his eyes smart. "They sort of had to go on hold. Lot of bills to pay round here."

"And Ponyboy – he still a child genius?

Darry smiled despite himself. _That is so typical of dad - exaggerate everything to make your point._

"Kind of. He's doing well, well most of the time."

"Managing to control Sodapop? He still in school?"

Darry shook his head. "He works at the gas station a couple of blocks over."

Brett pursed his lips and Darry felt a rush of anger, "he does okay."

He glanced at the clock and stood up. "Look it's good seeing you and all, but I got to get going."

Brett rolled his tongue inside his right cheek and stood up. "I'm here for a few days. I can't stay longer – it ain't safe. I'm going to come back and check on y'all." He pointed a finger at Darry's chest. "And that ain't a request y'hear?"

Darry shrugged.

Brett walked over to the door, but paused at the entrance. He turned round. "Darryl would have expected it. Even if Ruth didn't want me in this house, he kept me up to date."

His finger found the light switch which he pressed once. Nothing happened. Brett raised an eyebrow at Darry quizzically, then turned and walked out of the house.

* * *

"Soda! Will you get up already? I'm not going to tell you again!"

Soda groaned as Darry's voice boomed from the kitchen through the thin walls of the hall to the bed, which had just started to warm up nicely. He lifted his arm off Pony's chest and pulled the spare pillow from where it landed somewhere behind him last night, and dropped it on top of his head.

"I mean it Soda –"

_I thought you weren't going to tell me again, _he thought lazily burrowing into the warm furrow of the mattress. He wasn't exactly itching to start his day.

_Man is Darry grumpy when he doesn't get a hot shower._

He jumped as the door flew open suddenly, and felt the cool air hit his feet as a pair of strong arms grabbed his ankles and pulled hard. His eyes shot open and he pulled his arm out to grab hold of his brother's arm as he manhandled him on to the floor. _Jesus Dar –you're strong. _He sat on the floor by the bed and rubbed his arm.

"Hey!"

Darry's face was unsmiling. "When I say get up, it's time to get up – geddit?"

Soda frowned. _Man, but is he in a bad mood._

Darry crossed his arms across his chest, "And why are you sleeping in your jeans?"

Soda looked down and groaned inwardly.

"Can't a person get a little sleep around here?" Pony sat up blearily in bed. Darry shot him a look.

Soda stood up. "I'm gonna take that shower."

"There's no hot-"

"I know." He shrugged, "I'll live."

Darry was at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of water and reading the paper, when Soda emerged, shivering from the bathroom.

"You better hurry up, or you're gonna be late – again."

Soda rolled his eyes at the ceiling. He ducked back in the bathroom to get his jeans, only slightly wet from lying on the floor. He put them on and pulled out a chair from under the table, pulling the plate of bread towards him.

Darry put his paper down to the side, and chewed slowly for a second, looking at his brother thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Aren't you gonna ask where your DX shirt is?"

"Huh?" Soda looked up sharply. "I mean, yeah."

He concentrated on spreading jelly on his bread, sure Darry was watching him a little too hard.

"Well," he said slowly, "It's in my room – you left it on the living room floor. It needs a wash but you can't do much about that now."

Soda grunted, dropped a spoonful of peanut butter on his bread and a spoon of sugar, covered it with a second piece and took a large bite.

Pony hopped on to the seat next to him, laying his broken leg on a chair. He looked at the bread without enthusiasm. "We gonna get the electricity back on today?"

Darry looked up, "No Pony, I thought we'd just sit in the dark for a coupla months, maybe start cooking outside, save some money –"

"He was just askin' Dar." Soda said through a sticky mouthful of peanut butter.

"Well yeah – I'm gonna sort it out later." Darry turned to his middle brother, "I need you to bring home your pay packet pronto today. Maybe I can get the power back on before the place closes."

"Yeah." Soda shifted uncomfortably. Hal always paid them on Mondays, said it was a good incentive to come to work on time at the start of the week.

The screen door slammed. "Hellllo." Steve made a bee-line for the fridge. "Hey you know this-"

"Not working. Yeah we know." Darry stood up, picking his tool belt and lunch from the counter. He turned to do a double take at Steve. "You not working today?"

Soda groaned inwardly. Steve looked confused, looked down at his shirt and then back at Darry. He grabbed half of Soda's sandwich from his plate and shrugged. "Me? Nah – ripped the last one – Hal's getting me a new one."

"Uh huh." Darry said, looking slowly from Steve to Soda, back to Steve, who took another bite out of Soda's sandwich and winked.

Darry shook his head. _I don't even want to know what's going on with those two. _"You want a lift?"

Soda shook his head.


	11. Nothing Legal, Man

Ch11 NOTHING LEGAL, MAN

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE OUTSIDERS**

"I'm telling you Soda, I don't reckon he's gonna change his mind." Steve said for the umpteenth time as they rounded the corner of street towards the DX station. "You saw him. He was hopping mad. I thought he was gonna leave us in that cell."

Soda shrugged. "I've gotta do something."

"Fine – just don't say I didn't warn you." He pulled Soda back as a truck crashed through a large puddle on their left, sweeping water over the pavement. Steve jumped into the road shouting a loud string of obscenities at the driver, before calmly turning back to Soda. "You'll get another job – Darry'll just have to manage, won't he?"

Soda kicked a stray stone into the road and frowned. "I've still gotta try."

Steve refused point blank to step onto the concrete forecourt, so Soda pulled up the collar of his shirt and walked determinedly to the booth on his own. Hal was sitting behind the till, chewing on his pen, a raft of papers spread out in front of him. He looked up.

"What the hell are you doing here Curtis?"

Soda shifted uncomfortably. "I brought you back my shirt." He said hopefully, handing over the crumpled blue garment he'd been carrying, bunched up in one hand.

Hal stood up and took it without a word, laying it on the seat behind the counter, and turned back to Soda questioningly.

"And, I was wonderin' –"

He sighed heavily. "Don't push your luck kid. You're lucky I didn't lay charges, you know that? And if you're looking for last week's wages, you can forget it."

To his shame, Soda felt the beginnings of tears prick the back of his eyes, "But Hal – I need this job."

The older man looked at him steadily for a moment, and wiped his hands on his overalls. "I know that Curtis. If you remember that's why I gave you it in the first place, even though you and Randle can be a handful. But I didn't reckon on you two screwing with my business." He pursed his lips. "Once you've done that, there ain't no going back."

"So?" Steve leaned back against the low wall round the back of the DX and took a draw on his cigarette.

"Give me one of those will you?"

Soda lit the new cigarette from Steve's butt and inhaled deeply.

"That good huh?"

Soda stood up and kicked the wall. "Darry's relying on that money." He swore loudly, taking another deep draw. "How could I have been so stupid?" He kicked the wall again, hard, and started spluttering as the smoke hit the back of his throat.

" Woah –easy." Steve kicked at a dirty puddle by his feet. "C'mon man, we'll think of something."

Dairy Queen paid a dollar twenty five an hour – much less than the DX, but it wasn't hiring, neither was the Dingo, the grocery store, or a bunch of other garages they'd looked up in the phone book and called from the phone at Steve's house. They'd stopped for a break in the half broken swings by the lot, and were sitting, half-heartedly swinging on them. For the first time in about a year Soda thought maybe he could use a strong drink.

Soda looked miserably at his feet, watching the uneven ground fade in and out of focus as the plastic seat swung gently, picking up momentum before it almost stopped at the top of the short arc and swung slowly back to earth. He guessed he'd have to tell Darry when he got home, and God knows what would happen if the state found out, nothing good, that was for sure.

_They can go to hell if they want to shove Pony and me in some boy's home, _he thought stubbornly.

A cough from behind broke through his thoughts. He twisted his head round and squinted to see a lean figure slouching against one of the posts that held up the swing set.

"I hear you boys might be in the market for a job."

__________________________________________________________________________________

Darry got home just after five. His little brother was lying on the couch with his leg on the table, listlessly reading one of Soda's old horse magazines.

"Hey Pone. How's your day?"

Pony shrugged and looked at him as if to say _how d'you think my day's been asshole? _But he didn't say it, which was good. Man, did he look bored though.

"Where d'you get the mag?"

Pony shrugged, "basement".

"Uh huh." Darry walked into the kitchen and dumped his toolbelt on the table. "Not the best idea going down there on one leg, huh?"

Darry was eighty per cent sure his little brother was throwing him the finger behind his back – or at least making a face. _But hell, if I can't see it, I don't have to deal with it._

He poured Pony a glass of milk and held it out to him.

"Okay. Tomorrow you can go out – only with someone, mind? I don't want you getting jumped in the state you're in."

His little brother grinned and accepted the milk. "How about tonight – can I go to the movies?"

"Tomorrow." Darry said firmly in a tone that brokered no challenge.

Pony took a sip of the milk and grimaced, "it's kinda warm."

A half smile flickered across the corner of his brother's lip. Has "Well the icebox is still off little man, that could be why?" He pursed his mouth. "Soda been by? He was meant to stop by my job to drop off his paycheck so we could get some power back on."

Pony shrugged. "Nah, no one's been here all day."

Darry cursed. "It's too late now. I'm going down to the basement. If Soda comes by tell him I want to talk with him."

His little brother nodded, getting off the sofa to turn on the tv.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a time, about a month after their parents died, that Darry used to fantasise about someone coming out of the mist and taking control, preferably some distant uncle who'd made a fortune, but didn't mind moving to Tulsa to take care of them. Someone who would pay him through college, check Pony did his homework, keep Soda in school.

At the beginning, on the toughest days, when Soda was still in school but never there, and Pony was having nightmares that stopped him sleeping for days, and the state started getting very antsy, he thought he'd settle for anyone, even Brett Hope. But he never appeared, and thankfully time moved on and things started to ease – or maybe he got more used to things.

Darry cursed under his breath as a beam hit him square in the forehead. The flash light he had found was a little temperamental. He knocked it against the wall and ducked past the beam and down the last step into the dark basement. _Man it smells damp in here. The house better not start falling down on top of everything else._

He couldn't get Brett Hope out of his mind all day. Or rather, he couldn't get his parents out of his head all day. He kept playing the same scene over and over in his head, as though he was a security camera and the right scene would unlock the mystery of what was bugging him. He was ten. It was summer because he was constantly carrying around his new baseball and mitt trying to break them in. He was out in the back yard, trying to get Soda to at least try to catch the ball so they could have some kind of game, when the adults' raised voices reached a level it was difficult to ignore. They weren't yelling exactly, but his mom was talking loudly, in a strong voice, "not in my house. I will not have this in my house."

Next thing Brett must have left, quietly though, because he heard no more conversation. His dad banged the front screen door and then the truck door out front, but the engine never started up. He stayed out there for an hour or more. He had no idea what happened after that – whether they kept in touch. When he asked his mom, she'd said Brett wasn't coming over any more. But he had no idea his dad had kept in contact. It could just have been the odd Christmas card, couldn't it?

He shone the flashlight among the boxes. _But if they did keep in touch, the letters will be here._


	12. As Long as it ain't baloney

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE OUTSIDERS**

Darry cursed quietly to himself, looking at the contents of the food cupboard. Looked like it would have to be PJ sandwiches for dinner again. He couldn't even swing for hamburgers, they were too broke right now.

Pony appeared behind him, "so we're having a creative dinner, right? How about bread and… " His brother tailed off as he peered past Darry's shoulder in to the cupboard, "where's Soda when you need him? He could make something up out of this sh-stuff."

Darry looked at his brother with a semi-amused expression, "I think even he might find this a bit of a challenge kiddo. It looks like it's PJs or cereal and water – take your pick."

"As long as it isn't baloney." Pony said quietly.

His brother was distractedly peering under the sink, in case by any miracle, some tinned foods had disappeared down there. "Huh?"

"Nothing – I'll take a PJ I guess."

Darry stood up and ruffled the younger boy's hair. "Tomorrow, we'll get something decent for dinner, I promise."

Pony shrugged. "S'okay."

His older brother looked at his face more closely. A dark tide mark of dirt was apparent around the hairline. "Pone – you know you've still got to wash, right, even if we do only have cold water?"

Pony shrugged. "Didn't much see the point – dirt's healthy."

His brother flashed a rare grin. "Uh huh." He said slowly, "I don't think that one would stand up in a court of law. Go get cleaned up before we start our feast."

Pony shrugged back, "ok."

"And don't get your cast wet."

"I know."

"I know you know. Soda hasn't called has he?"

Pony put his hand up to his mouth. "I forgot."

Dar raised his eyebrows quizzically. "What did you forget?"

"He stopped by when you were in the basement. Said he was in a rush, had to get changed or something and then he went straight back out – said he's staying at Steve's tonight."

Darry worked his jaw in irritation. "Did you tell him I wanted to talk to him?"

Pony moved his good foot to shift his weight around and shrugged.

"Pony?"

His little brother shifted again. "Yeah I told him."

"And he went out anyways."

"I think he was in a rush Dar – "

"Well, he's not gonna be in a rush to go anywhere for the next few days anyway."

Dar saw his brother's downfallen face. "Not your problem. Go get cleaned up."

There was a sharp tap on the screen door. Pony made as if to answer it, but his brother steered him in the direction of the bathroom. "Go get cleaned up Pone. I'll get the door," he said firmly.

Darry brushed down the front of his white tshirt as he took a couple of long paces to the front door. The basement was filthy, and half the dirt from down there had ended up around his chest.

His heart sank as he recognised the figure through the screen.

"Hi."

"What can I do for you?"

Brett Hope leaned extravagantly against the doorframe and tipped his hat at Darry. "Good to see you too, son."

Darry took a step back and pursed his lips. "What do you want?" It came out surly and he felt like a teenager suddenly, a strange feeling he hadn't had in a good long while.

"I wondered if y'all want to come out for some dinner?"

Darry raised his eyebrow at Brett. "I thought it wasn't safe for you to be seen outside during the day."

Brett looked at him evenly. "That ain't exactly what I said Darrel." He leaned across the doorframe and flicked the living room light switch. Nothing happened. "Still having that light problem I see."

Darry scowled.

"Come on – let me take you out." He pointed at the kitchen. "It ain't good for him to miss a hot meal. He'll need it to mend that leg."

Darry turned round and gave his brother a look. Pony disappeared into the bathroom.

He turned back to the door, and eyed up his unwelcome guest for a couple of seconds, before letting out a heavy sigh. "Okay. Dinner. But only as a favour to you."

The left side of Brett's mouth curled up in a half smile. "Good."

_______________________________________________________________________________

The restaurant was a small one, but much fancier than they were used to, and out towards the soc-end of town.

_Brett sure isn't taking the chance he'll be seen in his own neighbourhood,_ Darry thought wryly as the sleek black Cadillac pulled up outside.

Darry glanced over at Pony. He was always quiet around strangers, but he could tell he was excited by the way his fingers had drummed a tattoo on the inside door handle all the way here.

"Come on then." Brett was over at Pony's side of the car, helping him out, handing him his crutches.

Inside the restaurant was kind of hushed. A couple of diners looked up as they walked in. Brett nodded at the waitress and she pointed them to a table by the window. Pony immediately picked up the menu and started scanning it hungrily.

"It's a shame Soda isn't here – he'll be real sorry he missed this."

Brett chuckled softly and turned to Darry. "Yeah, where is old Sodapop tonight anyway?"

Darry shrugged, reaching over to pick up his menu. "Staying at a friend's."

Brett's mouth twitched. "Uh huh. You know exactly where he is?"

"He's 16, he can handle himself."

"If you think so."

"I do." Darry frowned at his menu.

"Ready to order?" A dark haired waitress appeared at their booth.

Brett let his eyes wander from her waist to the ribbon tying up her curls before answering. "Sure. I'd say so. Pony?"

"I'll have a double cheeseburger with bacon, fries, a side order of 'slaw, and a large coke. Oh, and make that a large portion of fries."

Darry gave his brother an amused look. "You're hungry."

"Are we getting desert?"

"We'll see."

"Sure we can." Brett smiled indulgently and ordered himself a steak. Darry pursed his lips.

Pony watched as Brett removed his silverware from his napkin and laid the napkin on his lap carefully.

He was wearing a trademark dark suit, with a blue tie and gold pin. Even in the soc side of town he sort of stood out. He couldn't place the face though and Dar was being less than forthcoming on the details.

He reached out to pick up his own napkin. "So, eh," he unfolded it as Brett had done and placed it on his lap. "Who exactly are you?"

"Pony!"

His little brother looked at Darry questioningly.

"I'm just asking."

"Well mind your manners."

Pony gave his brother an incredulous look.

"It' okay. Let me answer the kid. I'm a friend of your dad. Brett Hope."

"You knew dad?" Pony's voice was slightly higher than usual.

Brett shrugged. "Course. We used to run together, run a little wild at times if the truth be told. You know the kind of thing."

Pony nodded, though he wasn't exactly sure he did understand exactly the kind of thing Brett was talking about.

"Then, well." Brett picked up his knife and sliced extravagantly through the air. "We drifted apart some, still kept in touch."

Pony picked up his knife and started digging a hole in the linen table cloth. Darry reached over and took it off him. "So, did he talk about us much?"

"Talk about you? Sure he did. Could hardly get him to shut up about you three, truth be told. Darry the star athlete, Soda the comedian, you the child genius."

Pony's cheeks started to flush. "So, what kind of things did you and dad get up to?"

Darry frowned, "Nothing we need to hear right now Pone. Let me tell you about it later. "

Brett smiled quietly to himself. "I can tell you some. We were friends, since we were kids, younger than you. I was a little on the wilder side of wild, and your grandma used to take me in, feed me, set me straight. We were buddies."

Pony frowned, and reached out to grab the plate of food which had arrived at the table. He took a sip on his coke thoughtfully.

"So you and dad were friends, huh? What was he like back then?"

Brett sliced a sliver off the edge of his steak and put it in his mouth with relish. "Good 'ole Diane's – you just don't get steak like this in Caymen." He took a sip of his beer, and swallowed.

Pony took a huge bite out of his burger and nodded encouragingly at Brett to continue.

"Pony, have I got some stories I can tell you."

Darry leaned back in his seat, and groaned.

_Great, just great. First the kid's running with hoods and now he's going to learn the trade from a master._

But despite himself, Darry didn't stop Brett, because there was something in him that wanted to know the secrets, too.

**________________________________________________________________________________**


	13. Dinner with Brett

Veiled threats and memories

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Brett took his napkin and dabbed lightly at his lips. "Well now, let me see."

Darry shot him a serious look. "Don't worry Darryl junior, I'll keep it clean. Or as clean as I can."

Darry rolled his eyes. "Sure you will. Just remember Pony's fourteen Brett."

Brett gesticulated in the air with his knife. "You sound like your mother. Keep your cool, boy. I was just going to tell Ponyboy about the time I came by the house just after he was born. You Darryl would have been around six I reckon, and Sodapop was just a baby."

Pony put down his knife and looked at Brett, wide-eyed and impressed.

"Your mom was up and about already, baking a cake. Quite a good one that day as well, as I remember. It was one of those that worked. Ruth wasn't exactly your ideal-home cook."

Pony frowned and picked up his knife to start gouging at the table cloth again.

"No disrespect to your mom, son. She was mighty good at a lot of things, just not so much at cooking." Brett took a sip of his beer. "Anyways you were the newest of new, just a coupla days old. And you should have seen your pop. He was proud as anything. He was like that with all you boys.

" Money was tight, and I needed an extra man for a job I was doing, so your dad and me, we set off to drive over to Tulsa to get to it. And this one, " he jabbed his knife at Darry, "was all over us. Said he was sick of babies." Brett let out a loud cackle. A couple of diners looked over.

Pony noticed the woman at the next table moving her handbag to the other side of her chair, and felt his cheeks start a low burn.

"At six! But Darryl told you to stay inside and help your mom. You weren't one bit happy, I tell you."

Pony snuck a look at his older brother, who had crossed his arms over his chest. Darry wasn't too keen of being reminded of stuff like this.

"Anyways, we get to Tulsa, do the job, and then head over to a bar I knew back then, for a coupla celebratory drinks. And when we get back to the van it's midnight. We're gonna have to kip in the back before heading back home, and Darryl gets in the back, and lets out this great shout. And I look back and who's lying there, dead to the world, but this one! Darryl wakes him up and he says, ' I told you I hated babies!"

Pony laughed and looked over at Darry who had allowed himself a small upturned grimace. "Yeah, yeah. You should try it – the house was like baby central back then."

Pony pushed his plate away and stood up. "I'm going to the restroom."

Darry nodded and watched as his brother threaded through the tables to the toilets at the far end.

Brett took another sip of his beer.

"He seems like a nice kid."

"He is a nice kid. Get's good grades too. He'll be fine as long as he keeps his head out of a book long enough to make it to 18."

Brett smiled and shook his head. "And what about that other brother of yours?"

"Soda?" Darry shrugged, "what about him?"

"Well, for a start, where is he tonight?"

Darry shrugged a second time, "at his friend's house."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah it is right. And what's it to you?"

"Darryl he's 16-years-old. I know what _I_ got up to at that age – and it wasn't pretty."

"Well I guess we're lucky not everyone's like you."

"So how come you and Pony were about to have a set to about it when I came to the house?"

Darry's jaw hardened. "Look Brett, thanks for the meal and all, but this really isn't any of your business. "

"Your dad would have wanted me to make it my business junior. I know the troubles he and Ruth had keeping Soda in line sometimes. You need to keep a better eye on him. I know what idle hands end up doing in this neighbourhood."

Darry shook his head. "You don't know the first thing about Soda –"

"Look Dar, your brother will be back in a moment so I'm going to cut the bull. I want to give you some cash, I want to help. It's what your dad would have wanted."

"No thanks. We don't need your money."

" Really? So power is like an aspiration in your house? Don't be such a mutt Darry, social services would sweep them up in a second If they knew that was off."

Darry glanced over to see Pony making his way back over from the toilet. He leaned in closer to Brett and hissed."We're fine. It's back on. We don't need your money, I don't want your money. I don't like where you get your cash."

Brett flashed his trademark smile. The one not reflected in his eyes. "I'm going to keep checking on you, whether you like it or not Darry, so you should get used to me. And one way, or another, you will let me help."


	14. Parenting Skills

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

Soda let the screen door bang hard and fell down on to the couch to take off his shoes, aiming them at Steve as he bounded through the door after him.

Two-Bit leaned over and pulled Soda roughly off the sofa, by his legs, grinning like a maniac. Soda pulled at him by the waist and twisted him round, pushing down hard on his chest. "You can't beat me – I'm the frigging prizefighting champion of the-"

Soda yelped as Steve's arm pulled back on his neck and dragged him to the floor, while Two-Bit grabbed his legs. Soda pushed hard and twisted as he felt his air give way, he struggled a bit more. "Okay – uncle," he gasped. He sat up, panting hard, and winked at Two-Bit. "Two against one ain't fair. Still if that's the only way you can beat me-" He grinned infectiously at the older boy.

Two-Bit leaned back against the couch. "I'd pound you again – but it's not fair." He pointed to the tv. " 'Sides Mickey's on."

"So Dar got the electric back on, huh?" He stood up and caught sight of their old Ford pulling up outside the house.

_Here we go._

Soda moved back into the kitchen to get some water from the tap, and heard his brother push open the screen door, hard.

"Is Soda back yet?"

"Hey Darry – sure is better when you get a bit of light round here." Two-Bit quipped.

Soda gulped down the water, laid the glass in the sink, and leant on the counter.

The door opened forcefully and his brother stomped in, dropped his lunch box on the counter and glared at his brother.

"What?" Soda shrugged.

"You wanna tell me why you didn't come home last night?"

"I did come home. I left the money on the counter for you."

"Yeah – this morning. I asked for that money last night Soda, so we could actually get a hot dinner, light, you know, kind of important things."

Soda shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry – I left it for you this morning." He grinned, "I thought you'd be pleased."

Darry nodded. "Uh huh." He bit his lip. "It was more than normal."

Soda reached into the cupboard to take out some bread. "So, Hal gave us extra. I did extra hours."

His elder brother caught his eye and looked at him steadily for a minute.

Soda held his gaze.

"Okay, fine. It's good to have the extra."

Darry pulled a hand through his hair. _Damnit Soda, if you're getting into something and lying about it, I'll – well I don't know what I'll do but it sure won't be pretty._

"So where's Pony gotten to?"

Soda felt his brother's eyes watching him as he pulled the peanut butter out of the icebox.

_It was so much easier to lie to dad. Not that easy was the word exactly. _

Soda licked the peanut butter off his knife.

_He was just, sort of, less challenging about it._

"The movies – I just dropped him off."

"So – the end of house arrest, huh?"

Darry watched as his brother messily sprinkled chocolate chips on the peanut butter and bread. "Yeah – but on a tight leash, I'm telling you."

Soda took a deep bite of his sandwich and remembered he hadn't eaten all day. He stopped in mid-chew when he felt his brother's cool green eyes boring into him.

He looked up. "What?" he asked, sounding as exasperated as he dared.

"Sit down – we need to talk."

Soda squared his shoulders and looked at his brother mutinously. _This is just great. You're not dad Dar._

He frowned, laid his sandwich on the counter and pulled up a seat, turning it so he could lean on the back and face his brother. Darry sat down opposite him.

"So," he said mischievously, "What d'you wanna talk about?" his dark eyes danced challengingly.

Darry frowned.

_So how am I meant to do this again? Mom and dad barely managed it. Except that time Soda 'borrowed' dad's car when he was ten and took Pony for a ride. Dad was terrified, tanned Soda's backside so hard he forgot to cry._

"I wanna know where you were last night. And I wanna know now."

Soda groaned. "Come on Dar. I was out, was all. I'm sorry, okay. I'll call next time."

"Sure you will. So where were you?"

Soda shifted uncomfortably. "Out with Steve."

Darry leaned in closer. "Sodapop Patrick Curtis – don't mess with me."

Soda's heart sank. _Great, he's playing the name game. _

That was always the sign mom was about to lose her less-than-perfect cool, and you'd better listen, and good.

He looked at him. "We went loads of places – you want me to draw you a map?"

His brother shook his head slowly.

When he spoke Soda heard his voice tense with anger. "No I don't want you to draw me a map. I'm sick of you coming home so late. You think I don't notice when you come back at all hours, huh? Stuff happens here late at night and I don't want you getting involved."

Soda shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Darry pointed a finger at his brother's chest. "You get caught up in that stuff and we'll have social services onto us like a shot."

He pulled his hand down and sighed. "You're curfew's twelve, you hear? And that's an hour more than I had when I was sixteen. I want you to stick to it."

Soda nodded mutely and raised his hand in a mock salute, but his heart wasn't in it.

"And you ain't leaving this house tonight. Maybe a night in will concentrate your mind."

Soda looked up. "Darry no-"

His brother smiled grimly. "Wanna make it two?"

------ - -- - - - -- - - - - --- - - - - - -

R&R the good, the bad and the ugly


	15. Rumours

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Soda slammed the door of his bedroom, hard, kicked the overflowing waste paper basket and leaned down to pick up Pony's tennis ball.

_If Darry thinks he can treat me like Pony, _he hit the tennis ball hard against the wall, _he's got another thing coming. I'm 16 for Christ sakes. I can take care of myself. I could walk out of this house right now and Dar wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. _

Soda retrieved the tennis ball from the floor by Pony's desk. He scowled at himself in the mirror and then dropped down in the middle of the bed. He threw the tennis ball hard at the ceiling.

His anger dissolved as quickly as it had come. _Shit. I've really messed up this time._

Soda felt a little sick when he thought about what he and Steve had been up to the night before.

Steve had said it was only a coupla cars, and a very good pay check. "Dar'll thank you for it Sode. Sometimes you've got to do what needs to be done," he'd said.

And sitting there in that play park with Tim towering over them, it had seemed like an easy out. One night of work, a couple of paint jobs, and they were done. It wasn't like they stole the cars.

Soda hit the tennis ball back against the ceiling, hard. A little plaster fell off and fluttered towards the bed. His PJ sandwich lay uncomfortably heavy in his belly at the thought of what the state would do if they heard about those "coupla" cars.

"I'm gonna head," Steve appeared in the doorway, and was looking at his friend curiously, "thought I'd cruise by the Dingo, spend some of that paycheck. Wanna come with?"

Soda scowled, "nah, I promised Pony I'd see him later. I've got stuff to do."

Steve gave him a funny look, "yeah? Like what Sode, you've had all day to get "stuff" done and since when do you pass up the chance for a nice ride, huh?"

"Since Soda didn't come home last night and got himself grounded, Steve." His eldest brother appeared behind Steve in the doorway.

Steve's eyes widened and one edge of his mouth turned up in a half grin. Soda sent his brother the evilest stare he could muster.

"Time to go Steve. I'm sure Soda'll be around to see you tomorrow." Darry crossed his arms over his chest and looked from his brother to his best friend.

Soda sat up in bed and copied Darry's arm crossing routine.

Steve sent him a half wave, "good bye convict," he said, with a snigger and disappeared.

Darry held out his hand. "Ball."

Soda rolled his eyes and lobbed the tennis ball across the room at him.

Darry caught it and ran his fingers over it. "Staying in doesn't mean staying in bed Sodapop. You can start on the dishes in the kitchen, and then the bathroom could use a clean."

Soda swore under his breath.

"And lose the attitude, kiddo."

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Darry left Soda swearing at the pots and pans in the kitchen and went into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him, and turning the key in the lock.

_Maybe Brett's right. Soda's been acting out a lot lately. He's had to take on a lot of responsibility but he's still a kid. _

Darry leaned in behind his bookcase and pulled out the package he'd left there the night before.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and almost laughed at the image of him sneaking about his own room, his own house.

_Course if mom and pop were here,_ he frowned, _ Soda wouldn't have had to grow up so quickly. None of us would. _

He unpicked the bundle of letters he'd found in a crate in the basement and sat on his bed, resting against the headboard.

_I knew dad would have kept these things. _He smiled a little at the thought of his dad – definitely not a man who would find letter writing easy – wrapping up his letters in a bundle and saving them carefully for later.

_The question is, when did the letters stop? If he was right about Brett Hope, there should be nothing in here from the last decade or so. _

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Soda stored the last half-washed pan – _we always eat the same kinda stuff anyway, it'll be more wholesome or something with bits of tonight's dinner on it –_ and turned to look in the icebox.

Since it seemed like he and Darry weren't really talking, he hadn't asked him about dinner. But he rolled his eyes when he scanned the third shelf to see Dar had left him a plate of rice and beans. Nothing like living the high life. Couldn't they just have enough money to eat for once, rather than surviving on this stuff?

He turned when he heard the screen door go, and leaned out of the kitchen to look at who had come in. "Hey Pone. How was the movie?"

Ponyboy shrugged. "Okay. Is there anything to eat?" he dropped his crutch by the kitchen wall and sank into a chair.

"You look beat." Soda said, taking the plate of rice and beans out and dumping it into his newly "washed" pan.

Pony yawned, "Yeah. The movie was okay, but then Two-Bit turned up to give me a lift home and insisted on taking these girls back home." He smiled at the memory. "I don't think those girls wanted a ride. Two-Bit spent forever trying to get them in the car."

Soda grinned. "Take it where you can get it I s'pose."

Pony glanced at the living room. "Where's Darry?"

Soda shrugged. "In his room I guess. Been in there all night – he didn't share with me why."

Pony looked at his brother strangely. "Did you two have a fight?"

Soda shrugged. "Something like that."

Pony looked at his brother wide-eyed, "But you two never- "

"Sure we do. Now." Soda pulled out a plate from the draining board by the sink. "I don't know what's making Dar so tetchy these days, but I sure wish I could stop it."

He dumped the pan over the plate and handed it to Pony with a fork.

His younger brother picked up the fork and took a half hearted bite. He glanced back down the corridor towards Darry's room and lowered his voice.

"Soda?"

"Uh huh." Soda said, distractedly from the sink.

"I heard something tonight."

Soda ran the pan under the cold tap. "Yeah, what?"

"Well, is it true that you ain't working at the DX no more?"

Soda turned and shot a glance through the kitchen door to his brother's room.

"Where you hear that?"

"At the Dingo. Is it true?"

Soda frowned and lowered his voice. "Yeah it's true. I ain't proud of it, but it's true. I don't want to worry Darry though Pone, so I was holding off telling him 'til I got another job."

Pony put down his fork, "but how could you lose your job Soda? Is Hal laying people off?"

Soda picked up the fork and put it back into his brother's hand. "Eat, or the state'll think we're starving you or something."

Pony took another bite. "But how come Soda?"

"I just – it just happened okay Pone? I don't wanna talk about it. And keep it under your hat, would you? This ain't something Darry has to be dealing with right now."

Pony frowned at his food. He knew well enough that if Soda wasn't telling him what was going on, it couldn't be good.


	16. Trainee Outlaws

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

Darry laid the last bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, stood back and stretched, feeling the tense muscles in his back start to soften. His back was sore today. He could feel the torn muscle fibres protesting as they untensed in his back. It was sorer to relax them by stretching than to keep them contracted, but he knew he'd be in better shape later if he relaxed now. Maybe Soda could give him a back rub later.

_If he actually comes home today, _he thought worriedly.

It had been a long hot day on the roof. What with the rain on Friday, they'd been trying to make up for lost time, so the crew had been working twice as hard.

_And for less pay. _Darry hated it when the rain deprived him of income.

_But, _Darry looked at the groceries piled up on the counter, _We're not doing too badly this week. Soda's extra paycheck couldn't have come at a better time. Hal must be doing well to give them extra like that. _Darry smiled. _Soda's good at pulling in the customers._

In fact it was more food than they had had in a while. Darry quickly unpacked the bags, leaving the one containing the stuff for that night's dinner on the counter.

He had to be quick. He'd spoken to Pete about getting some extra hours to make up for the rain day, and for once Pete had come through. The boss was building a bunch of houses on land he'd picked up cheap on the edge of the East side. He was going to market them as an exclusive new development in an "up and coming" area. Which was fine apart from no one told the likes of the Shepherd gang that they were encroaching on an "up and coming area".

Security had turned out to be a bit of a problem. The regular security guy had gone off sick and Pete offered the hours to Darry on a one-off basis.

He reached over and picked up a pan, deciding not to look too closely at Soda's washing up skills. Pony had said he was going over to Two-Bit's house to "help" him set up an old table tennis table that had "fallen off the back of a skip". Darry shook his head wryly. He really didn't want to know where that had come from, but on the other hand anything to keep Pony occupied and off his broken leg had to be a good thing.

He was just dumping the meat into the pan when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"What's for dinner?"

_Brett._

Darry turned round to see his dad's friend at the doorway. He was jacketless and his top button was open as a concession to the heat, but Brett Hope made their kitchen look shabby.

"Funny I didn't hear you knock." Darry said mildly, turning back to the pot.

He heard Brett exhale loudly behind him. "You wanna keep that door locked Darrel. It ain't smart to let the likes of anyone walk into your house in a neighbourhood like this."

Darry reached for a knife and cut a red pepper directly into the pan, "No kidding." He said under his breath.

Brett pulled Darry's shoulder to turn him around. "Listen kid. I didn't come here to listen to your attitude. I want to talk to you."

Darry sighed, put down his knife, and leaned over to turn the cooker off. "Okay. I'm all ears."

"Have you thought about what I said to you the other night?"

"Uh huh. " Darry wiped his hands on his jeans. "I told you we don't need your money."

Brett rolled his eyes in exasperation, "and why is that? Because you've got enough to eat tonight? Because this place is a fucking palace?" he lifted his arms up violently to take in their kitchen.

Darry was a little taken aback by the sudden dark undertone in Brett's voice. His voice hardened. "Yeah. That's exactly why, because this place is perfect for us. It was our parents place – apparently your great friend's "fucking palace". Thanks for your concern but we'd rather get on by than take your dirty money."

Brett turned away and swung his hand violently at the kitchen counter.

_He's used to getting his own way. _Darry thought grimly, watching the older man crouch over the work surface and take a deep breath.

He stood up straight again. When he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. "Listen to me boy, and listen good. I made a promise to your dad, okay. And I ain't one to break my promises. But I also ain't that patient. I'm not going to beg you to come to me, because eventually, you will come to me. And if you don't well, let's just say, if I have to, I can make life hard for you, comprehend?"

And with that, Brett Hope, forty years old and used to getting his own way, took his designer shirt and walked out of their kitchen, kicking the door on the way past.

Darry stood for a second, slightly stunned by the outburst.

"What is _Brett Hope_ doing at our house?" Soda appeared in front of him, wide eyed and anxious.

"Huh?" Darry said, buying time and turning back to the stove to continue with dinner.

"_Brett Hope._ Pony said one of dad's old friends dropped by the other night. He didn't say it was the neighbourhood's biggest outlaw gangster."

Darry could hear the barely controlled admiration in his brother's voice. He swung back round from the cooker, his good mood forgotten.

"He's not good news Soda. Dad wasn't really friends with him. And I don't want to talk about it."

"You haven't , um –" Soda's brows were furrowed in consternation, "You haven't borrowed money from him, have you Dar?"

Darry couldn't help but break into a half smile at his brother's worried face. "No Sodapop, I haven't been out borrowing money. And you can rest assured if we needed that kind of money I'd sell mom's wedding ring rather than go to a man like that."

He saw his brother's shoulders soften. "Cool. "

Darry thought of something and pointed a finger at Soda's chest. "And just because he came here uninvited because he thinks he knew dad doesn't meet it's okay to go associating with him and his type – you hear Soda?"

Soda rolled his eyes and ducked under his brother's arm to grab a piece of carrot from the pot. "Jeeze you worry Dar."

Darry smiled and reached over to ruffle his brother's hair. "You're looking kinda clean for a change."

A look passed over his brother's face before Darry could read it. "So? Hal had me behind the cash register for most of the da. Bor –ring."

"Well can you take your cleanness and finish off this dinner." Darry looked at his watch. "I want to have a shower before we eat. I've got that extra job I was telling you about tonight. Are you okay to stick by the house tonight? I don't want Pony here on his own all night."

Soda nodded. "I was going to hang round here tonight anyway."

_________________________________________________________________________

"Come on, it'll be ace." Two-Bit threw his arms about wildly and almost lost his perch on the arm of the couch in the living room.

Pony looked up from the book he was reading and smiled. Two-Bit had been trying to persuade them to hit a party over by the gravel pit outside town for the last half an hour. Two-Bit said Steve was keen but for once Soda wasn't listening. Pony wasn't sure whether it was because he didn't want to antagonise Darry or because he didn't want to leave him on his own.

_For once, _he thought glancing at the increasingly dirty cast on his leg, _I don't care. I sure ain't gonna be able to walk around a gravel pit at night without killing myself._

"I'm gonna give it a miss Two-Bit. I mean the gravel pit ain't exactly the world's best place for a party."

"But there'll be cute girls there. I asked a bunch of 'um myself just this afternoon." Two-Bit smiled to himself and reached down into the stash of beer he'd brought for the party. He pulled one up, pulled at the ring pull and took a long sip, obviously preparing himself for the long haul. "It'll be great Soda. End of summer party."

Soda smiled. "It ain't even the end of the summer Two-Bit. We're in the middle of the hottest damn weather of the whole lot."

Two-Bit shrugged. "Well, these guys, they're sort of working up to it, to the end of summer." He took another swig. "These ain't your overachieving types, you know? Come on Soda, Pone?"

A large hand came down and removed the beer from Two-Bit's hand. "Not in the house Two-Bit. Not when I'm not gonna be here."

Two-Bit rolled his eyes at Darry, who'd turned to the living room mirror to comb his hair.

"Come on, what d'you say?"

Soda glanced at his eldest brother. "Nah, not tonight."

"Jeeze. What about you Pony?"

Ponyboy laughed. "I reckon I'll stay too Two-Bit, keep Soda company."

"Jeeze. Ain't you two the life and soul?" Two-Bit slid off the arm rest and into the couch seat. "Well I might as well stay in too, seeing as how they'll have to have another one for the actual end of summer." Two-Bit frowned, "might even be better too."

Darry turned from the mirror. "Okay you two, stay in, stay out of trouble." He looked meaningful at Soda and then Pony. "If there's any problem you know where to find me, right?"

Soda rolled his eyes. "Yeah Dar. We'll be good. No matches or nothing."

Darry lifted his finger and pointed it at his middle brother, "no beer or girls more like. I'll be back around three. Be good, you hear?"

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Pony glanced at the mantle clock. It was just after 11 and they were on to their fifth round of poker. Steve hadn't appeared yet, which was unusual, and there was an odd atmosphere in the room. Soda kept glancing at the clock and getting up to go outside. He'd even swiped one of Pony's cigarettes, and gone out to light up on the porch between the last two rounds.

The screen door banged and Pony and Soda both turned to see Steve appear in the doorway.

Two-Bit put down his hand of cards and stood up, shaking the table hard. "Hey – it's about time you showed up. Where ya been? You fancy a party? There's –"

Steve interrupted him. "I wanna speak to Soda."

Pony saw Steve's hands clenching and unclenching as Soda stood up quickly and followed him out to the porch.

Two-Bit gave a low whistle. "What's going on with those two?"

Pony shrugged, and stifled a yawn. "You want a donut? Dar picked some up earlier I think."

"Sure."

Soda came back in on his own a couple of minutes later, his face blank and hands in his pockets.

_He looks shaken up. _Pony thought. _No point in asking him what's going on, he'll just tell me everything's fine._

Soda leant over to Two-Bit's stash of beers and took one, throwing the other to Two-Bit. He opened the ring pull and took a deep gulp.

Pony frowned. Soda caught the look and put his finger to his lips and winked. "It's just a beer, keep it to yourself would you?"

Pony shifted uncomfortably, and picked up his hand of cards.

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Thanks for the comments. Please R&R. Thanks.


	17. 17 I'll sleep when I'm dead

**DISCLAIMER – I own nothing**

… **and after a long delay I return with another chapter… sorry for the delays … had little time and lost interest in this for a while but have had some encouraging reviews recently that sparked me into action today.**

Darry stretched his eyes wide, forcing him to focus on the road rather than the hypnotic white line that ran down the centre of it.

_Ten more minutes and I'll be home._

It was three in the morning and for the most part the streets of Tulsa were quiet. The night air was warm and gentle and whooshed in through the window of the truck. Darry felt dog-tired. He was struggling to keep it together long enough to make the drive back.

He exaggerated the sound of the yawn that stretched his mouth suddenly and leaned over to turn up the radio.

It had been a relatively straightforward night. The hardest thing had been keeping himself awake long enough. He'd quickly got into the routine of sit in the booth, read the paper, patrol round the site every hour or so, fill in the log book, read the paper, try not to fall asleep, go for an extra patrol to keep the legs moving, don't sit down and fall asleep, don't fall asleep, eyes open, eyes open.

It had been deadly quiet. Whoever had shown an interest in the construction equipment had been scared off or, more likely, they were up to no good elsewhere.

About one in the morning he'd resorted to swallowing a mouthful of instant coffee, and spent the rest of the shift standing up. When Pete's cousin arrived at quarter to three – _how many cousins does this guy have exactly? – _he'd been pulling his legs round the outside perimeter. The cousin was none to pleased to have to come here after his night in the bar, but even Darry wasn't complaining about the prospect of getting a couple of hours sleep before he pulled off his next full shift.

_Just think of the money. The money will make it worth it._

He indicated left and turned up their street, relieved as he always was to see that his brothers hadn't burnt the house down. The lights were even off.

He took the key out of the ignition and sat for a moment, wondering how much time he would save by just sleeping in his truck and going straight to work the next day. He forced himself to open the driver's door and drag himself up to the front porch and into the house.

He took off his boots and lay on top of his bed covers. _ Couple of hours sleep, extra strong coffee in the - _ But he was asleep before he could finish the thought.

* * *

Something was irritating his sleep. Darry lifted up his arm ineffectually to wave away the insistent tapping that was drilling into his unconsciousness. The tapping became harder – turned into a bang. Darry sat up suddenly, turned to his window and looked through the fug of sleep at a dark figure gesturing to him.

He rubbed his eyes – _what the feck?_

A man – short and wearing sunglasses was gesturing him to open the window. Darry rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm clock on his dresser.

_Half past five. Great. It's not like I need the sleep or anything. _ _Is the whole world conspiring against me here?_

He sighed exasperatedly and swung his legs out the bed.

When he got to the window he recognised the blunt man and the sleek, dark Cadillac parked slightly further down the street.

* * *

"Do you visit me at this time to piss me off or is it just part of your usual charming demeanour?" Darry sat down on the car's leather seat and took in Brett Hope's suit of the day – navy rather than black, with a scarlet neck tie and his trademark walking stick. The trademark grin was missing.

"Have you thought about my proposition?" Brett Hope's tone was smooth and low, like he was talking to a business partner across a walnut table, rather than hiding in the back of a cadillac in a dodgy part of town just after dawn.

Darry bit his lip and shook his head slowly. "You know, this is getting a little old Brett. I get it, I saw the letters, I get that you and dad were friends, and that you went way back, but I – we – don't need your money.

"In fact, at the moment, if you want to help, what I could do with is for you to leave us alone to allow me to get some sleep."

Brett's face had taken on a strange expression. Darry noticed he was smiling, and that the smile had reached his eyes, which were shining slightly. "He kept them?" Brett shook his head, still smiling, "I knew he would. Listen I know I ain't no angel Dar but I do want to help out your dad."

Darry leaned back against the leather headrest and wished for his bed. "Well you are, coming to check up on us, that helped," he lied.

Brett's cool eyes rested on Darry for a moment. "You're fine are you? All of you?"

Darry groaned and closed his eyes briefly. _These fancy cars sure are comfortable. _ "Yes, we're fine."

"Even Sodapop?"

Darry's eyes snapped open. "Yeah." He said a spark of challenge in his eyes.

"So you know where he goes, what he does?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes. He goes to work, he goes cruising for girls, he and Steve hang out, whatever.

"I know it must be a hard concept for a hood like you to understand but I trust him. "

Darry saw Brett's knuckles whiten against the cane he leant on, even in the car, and wondered briefly if he'd gone too far.

Brett looked at him squarely in the face. "He works at the DX right?"

Darry shrugged, "yeah, so?"

"Ask him about his job Darrel."

* * *

"Sodapop." Darry pushed open the door to his brothers' bedroom roughly. "Sodapop I want to speak to you right now." His voice sounded loud in the early light.

A figure squirmed at the side of the bed.

"Dar?"

"Pone, go back to sleep."

Darry took in the empty half of the bed. "Actually where's Soda?"

He saw his brother blearily sweep a hand over the empty side of the bed. "Dunno – kitchen?"

Darry cursed inwardly.

_No he's not in the frigging kitchen. Soda, I swear to God if you are into anything right now I'm gonna kill you._

"Pony I'm going to work a bit earlier today. Tidy up around here will you?"

_In case the State make a surprise visit. That would be good timing. An icy fear had started to claw at Darry's insides._

* * *

Please R&R and I may even update again in 2009, you never know.


	18. unhardened criminals

**DISCLAIMER – I don't own anything**

The job was bigger than usual. Someone in the Shepard gang had knocked off a consignment of new cars – five of them. They all needed a respray, new number plates and the registration details filed off.

Soda hopped nervously from foot to foot, and ran a hand through his hair, then wiped it on his jeans. "This is a big job."

"Yeah." Steve grinned, looking like a happy contented criminal.

Soda puffed out his cheeks and let out a big breath.

_Jeeze Louise he looks like he's born to this. I feel like I'm about to throw up._

Steve patted the hood of one of the cars affectionately. "Nice cars. Plenty of dough too."

Soda frowned and resumed his hopping. "And you're sure they ain't stolen from anyone?"

Steve looked at his friend impatiently. "Will you get a grip Soda? Calm down, man, before the Shepards think we're a coupla kids."

He glanced over his best friend's shoulder to the murky interior of the warehouse where three burly guys in their twenties were roughly congratulating each other over beers.

"I told you Soda. These ain't stolen cars _per sae_, hell no, these are just from a dealer. They'll get every dime back in insurance anyway. Hell, we did them a favour, they won't even have to sell them to get the dough."

Soda looked doubtful. _I'm not sure Darry'd see it that way, not to mention pop - _At the thought of his parents his stomach gave another lurch.

" 'Sides we didn't do any of the stealing. We just do the work and get paid."

"I don't like it."

"Well, so make this your last job. You'll earn a month's pay in one night and you can keep it and give it in Dar in bits and pieces until you find a new job. No one will ever know."

Soda jumped as the garage door at the end of the warehouse was thrown open and a new car appeared, sleek and new, a Corvette in a familiar shade of white…

Tim Shepard stepped out of the car and sauntered up to them. "So I hear you two are doing a good job. Think you can up the speed though? We need these cars pronto."

Steve nodded, "no problem – we'll have them done today."

Soda watched Tim saunter over to the other men further into the warehouse. He turned to Steve, "I know that car. That's the one from the DX – it certainly ain't from no dealer. This is a very fucking bad idea."

Steve shrugged in an attempt at casual though Soda noticed his friend had paled. "Whatever. We've got to do them now. Let's get this over with and then scoot. It can't take more than a day."

* * *

Darry climbed into his truck. He was tired, and worried. That morning he hadn't known where to start looking for Soda.

_Well scrub that, I did know where to start. I just hoped I wouldn't find him passed out at Buck's place or laying on Shepard's couch. _

Tim hadn't been around when he went by his place. Curly was passed out on the sofa, surrounded by beer cans but there was no sign of Soda.

Work had been extra tough. Darry spent the day alternating between exhaustion and fury, hitting the shingles harder than was strictly necessary.

_If Mohammed won't come to the mountain…_

Darry scratched his head and wished his tired brain wouldn't spew such nonsense. But it was true, much as he didn't want to cause a scene in public, he needed to talk to Soda, to find out what was going on and to stop it, pronto. And the only way to be sure of that was to go and catch him at work.

The gas dial on the truck was way down into the red. He smiled wryly. He'd even be a paying customer.

He scrunched up his eyes in an effort to control himself for the inevitable conflict with Soda, and pulled up at the gas station.

There was no sign of anyone but Hal, who lumbered out in dungarees, black with grease, to serve him.

Hal looked at him weirdly. "Didn't think I'd see you showing up here any time soon. Still guess your money's as good as anyone's."

_What the-?_

Darry got out the truck. Hal was notoriously grumpy but this seemed rude, even for him. Darry squared up his shoulders and felt his chin jut out.

"And don't give me the petition too. I already told Soda, I'm sorry about your situation, but he ain't getting his job back."

_Shit._

"Uh huh." Darry made a low whistle. "You wanna tell me about that?"

* * *

_So it's so much clearer now. _Darry thought grimly. _What the hell do you think you're playing at Soda? If you think you can get arrested, lose your job and get away with it scot free you've got an entirely different thing coming to you._

Darry clenched his left fist and hit the steering wheel in frustration.

_Once I find you Sodapop, you're a dead man._

And then he remembered the money, and how it appeared after his brother had lost his job and the icy fear which had been lurking inside him all day reoccupied his chest.

Darry took a couple of deep breaths and counted to ten. Realistically he couldn't imagine exactly what he _could_ do with Soda. It wasn't like it was easy to ground him like with Pony.

_He's sixteen for Chrissakes._

Maybe he could tie him up instead, at least until he reached eighteen.

* * *

Pony heard the rattle of the pickup and quickly shoved a bunch of clothes and other detritus from the bedroom floor under the bed. It had been a boring day but it hadn't exactly left him itching to do housework. Two-Bit had gone AWOL, Soda hadn't been back since the early hours of the morning, even Curly hadn't appeared to look for chocolate cake and bitch about the reformatory.

_If I can't go out on my own Darry may as well have left me grounded._

He heard the screen door, slam, hard, and remembered too late that he'd left his crutches in the kitchen when he'd made some more chocolate cake. He hopped across the hall on one leg and peered in.

Darry was sitting at the kitchen table with the paper laid out I front of him but it was obvious he wasn't reading. Pony noticed the tell tale sign of his brother's jaw working.

"How do you expect your leg to heal if you don't give it a rest, huh?"

Pony leaned over and picked up the crutches from where they lay against the cooker. "I've been resting it all day – I didn't need 'um."

His brother gave him a look.

Pony held them up. "Fine, I've got them now, see."

Darry grunted and turned back to the paper.

"Did you, eh, see Soda out on your travels?"

Darry looked up sharply from the table. "Why? You know where he is?"

Pony shook his head quickly. "No, he's not been back here. Soda's not, " he scratched his head, "not in trouble is he? Big trouble I mean."

His oldest brother rubbed the bridge of his nose and turned a pair of tired, lined eyes to Pony. "I don't know Pone." His brow rumpled, alerted by something in Ponyboy's tone. "Why ask – what do you know?"

Pony shrugged and examined the pancake green splodge under the cooker. "Nothing," he lied quickly. "It's just, it seems like you two are fighting all the time."

Darry shook his head. "Stop worrying kiddo. Why don't you go out to the movies tonight?"

Pony hesitated, knowing that Darry meant 'go with Two-Bit', but then the boredom of the day took over.

"Sure."

Darry reached in his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Distracted, he removed a dollar bill and gave it to his little brother. Pony looked at it. It was more than he usually got.

"With Two-Bit, mind?"

Pony nodded slowly.

_Curly might be free. And what's the real difference? Dar just wants someone there to scare off trouble. 'Course Curly's better at attracting it -_

"Go for a coke or something afterwards. Home by ten, mind." His brother said, distracted again, drumming a tattoo into the table.

Pony nodded and hopped back to his room. He felt bad lying to Darry.

_But what am I s'posed to do? Two-Bit's not my babysitter and he'll be at the rerun of that 'end of summer' party he was talking about. _

He felt a surge of anticipation he hadn't felt, well, since Johnny.

He shrugged to himself.

_Sometimes you have to move on. Curly ain't Johnny but he can be pretty funny sometimes._

And with a guilty "see ya." He closed the screen door and hopped down onto the pavement.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews – always encouraging. I love the specific ones, and welcome any pointing out the specifically bad as well as the good.. thank you.


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